


Star's Journey: The Dragon Queen

by Freida_Right



Series: Star's Jouney [1]
Category: Rowan of Rin - Emily Rodda
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 08:45:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 60,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2422472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freida_Right/pseuds/Freida_Right
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~continuation~ Star of Rin leads a happy, normal life, and all is at it should be. But when her mother is abducted by the fearsome Zebak, she is propelled into the adventure of a lifetime...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Star

**Author's Note:**

> I had sworn not to do this until other things were more complete. Alas, I refuse to help myself any longer. It is too much. XD
> 
> I've longed to write a continuation, pretty much since middle school, when I finished gobbling up Ice Creepers, and decided that there definitely needed to be...... MORE. At the tender age of 13, I didn't quite understand the ending. As a 22 year old grad student, it makes more sense, but...... More. MORE. MOOOOOOOOOOOORE.
> 
> And there have been other ideas over the years. Ideas that included portals to other dimensions and other languages and the spirits of whole elements living in certain people's children... But part of me fears that it has become too elaborate to ever happen. This, however, is recent. Like, within the past couple of months, recent. And behold--'tis manageable! 
> 
> So, as this fandom is still pathetically smaller than Rowan himself, let's have ourselves a new adventure!

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Chapter 1: Star

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"Star, come along! I won't call you again!"

"I'll be right there, mum," the girl called back for the third time, smirking to herself. Despite the annoyance in her mother's voice, she was fine with not being summoned again. She was taking her time, as she always did. She had never liked to be rushed.

As it was, Star was still busy trying to rake a comb through her long, thick brown hair. It tumbled in messy waves halfway down her back, and became more of a chore to deal with by the month. Her mother, grandmother, and godmother were always teasing that it needed to be cut soon, threatening with nothing less than sturdy shears. The kind used for shearing wool. Star always refused. She was curious to see how long she could let her mane grow, before even she couldn't stand it anymore.

That day had yet to come. She was very proud of its progress.

Satisfied that most of the tangles had been combed out, she set the comb aside and stood to face her mirror. Unable to do much else with it, she took a silk scarf and tied it around her head to keep her hair from her face. It was the most adornment the people of Rin would allow at a time, without whispering suspiciously as she passed by. After all, they were a proud and sturdy people, not given over to wasting time on vanities. Star would have liked much more to wind ribbons and flowers into her hair, the way her Traveler mother had in her own youth. It would have suited her much better, she thought.

Star was already an unusual child—the child of one of the village's greatest heroes, and a strange, exotic woman from the plains. Their union many years before hadn't been entirely welcome, merely accepted. Their friendship had been a powerful one in the past; many times, they had walked through hell and come back out again, changed but alive, because of that bond. It came as little surprise to most, then, when they had married. They, themselves, had been unusual children, once upon a time. Before their adventures had changed them so. They were even more unusual now; but they had each other. They would always have each other.

Star's mother had left her wandering life behind to settle in the village, with her husband. For being raised as a Traveler, she had grown used to this settled life very quickly; perhaps astonishingly quickly, according to some. She was well liked, even well loved, by most. Whether she was a foreigner or not, she had still played a large role in keeping the village safe. And she was a good companion for its most honored resident.

Star was their only child. A strong, sturdy, energetic child, like nearly any other in the village of Rin. This was also surprising, considering her parentage. As a boy, her father had been small, weak, and very shy, afraid of his own shadow, some said—the oddity that occasionally came along, normally to be in everyone's way. By contrast, her mother had always been tall and slender, graceful and beautiful; despite her fierceness, her strength of arm was unimpressive, as it was with most Travelers. Their greatest weapons were, and always had been their sharp wits and good sense.

Who would have guessed, then, that their one daughter would be so unlike them? Yet Star was more like her parents than most people guessed. She was strong enough to wield a sword, she supposed, but she didn't care for them. As it was with her parents, she preferred to favor the power of her mind over any other weapon. She was a quick, clever girl; it was evident in her very face. And she was sure of herself; that was evident in the way she carried herself, with her back straight and her head held high, proud of who she was.

She faced her reflection with a grin, planting her fists on her hips. Some people teased her because of her appearance, but she knew it was only because they were jealous. At first glance, she looked very much like her mother. She had the same dark skin and pale blue eyes, glittering with life and intelligence, and perhaps a secret or two. But a closer look at her face betrayed this. She looked, in fact, remarkably like her father. She had his same nose, jawline, and hair color. Certainly, she had his smile, people said. A calm, disarming smile that used to be rarely seen.

Forgetting briefly that her mother was still waiting, Star closed her eyes, made a silly face, and looked again at her reflection. Amused, she did this over and over, until she began to giggle at herself.

"Oh, I am silly," she laughed to her reflection. Pleased with herself, she finally left her mirror behind and started toward the kitchen.

There was already a bowl waiting for her at the table, steam still rising from it. On the other side of the small kitchen, her mother was washing dishes with her back turned. As Star slid into her chair, she heard her mother laugh softly.

"Wherever have you been?" she asked.

"Oh, nowhere," Star replied casually.

"Off on adventures of your own, I suppose."

“Only as far as my bedroom mirror will allow."

"Did you slay any dragons? Or perhaps a giant or two?"

"I would have, if there were any left to slay. You and papa seem to have taken care of them all, yourselves, and left nothing for me."

"Ah. A welcome relief." In a softer voice, her mother added, "Your godfather was right, back then, after all..."

Even though their child was as capable as any other, it was no great secret that the village heroes went out of their way to shelter her more than most. Perhaps they did not mean to, but they did. They had seen many terrible things, and fought against evils that no one had been able to imagine. Evil things that had lain quietly in their very land, waiting for a moment to strike against them. Their land was safe from such things now, and there was only their unexpected heroes to thank for it.

Heroes who had never wanted such adventure or excitement for themselves. Heroes who had been scarred and changed by them. Heroes who now had a single child to raise, a child they loved with all their hearts. Star had a great destiny awaiting her, that much was certainly true. But if her parents could spare her the trials, tears, and scars they had sustained, they would.

Other adults laughed at them, said such precautions were silly and pointless. Great things were expected of Star—so much more than had ever been expected of her father. What was the point in delaying this, or sheltering her when she should be strong and well prepared when her great moment finally found her? Her parents always answered somewhat coolly, if such danger threatened any other child, what parent wouldn't try to prevent it? Who would knowingly encourage their child to go out into the world seeking trouble? If your child was in trouble, would you not spare them, if you could?

Which everyone had to admit was not only true, but somewhat wise.

They had worked so hard, making this land a safe place for its children. Star knew immediately what her mother meant. All that hard work hadn't been intended specifically for her; but she was now a part of that. It was a humbling thought, which made her feel bigger at the same time.

Whatever was waiting for her, Star felt fairly prepared for it. She could fight well enough, survive alone in the wild if she had to, and she was very charming. What was more, she knew that she would not be alone. She would have friends and family surrounding her, when her time came. She had parents, who adored her; godparents who were full of wisdom and good advice; and cousins, who were a better band of friends than she could have designed on her own. They would never let her fail.

As she thought of these things, she slowly began to eat. No great adventure should start on an empty belly, after all. And in Rin, one always had to be prepared for an adventure. There had been none in a long time, but nothing was ever certain.

"Has papa already left for the day?" she asked.

"Just to the market and back. He'll be along shortly, if his sisters don't waylay him."

"Oh, but they will. They always do."

"True enough. I believe he has left something for you to work on, though. Go look in his study, when you're finished; he said everything should be in order."

"I shall ask him more about it when he returns," she decided.

"He will like that. You know, your father is extremely fond of you, Star. You are very much like him."

"I am very much like you, as well."

Her mother smiled at her over her shoulder. "Indeed, you are."

Star smiled back, and her mother returned to her work. As she ate, Star wondered, for at least the thousandth time, about her mother. As far as many people were aware, this woman was merely Zeel of the plains, formerly captain of the Traveler forerunners. Today, she was a familiar fixture of their tiny community, one which no one could quite picture life without anymore. Despite the stories, not everyone was completely aware that she hadn't been born on the plains at all. Somehow, a few people still failed to realize that she was, in fact, part of the race that had tried time and again to destroy them all.

Star smirked at the idea. When you looked at everything properly, of course her mother was Zebak. Her build and appearance certainly fit the description, as did her natural cunning and temper. All this was astonishingly easy to miss, when she introduced herself as a Traveler. The two very different people were more alike than most would guess. Mostly, though, people knew her as a hero, a warrior with a brave heart they could all accept, who had spared nothing to help them in times of real trouble, even though she had been a stranger.

Yet here she was, washing the morning dishes, as she had done every morning that Star could remember.

By the time Star had finished eating, her father still hadn't returned. Slightly peeved by his tardiness, she placed her empty bowl by the sink and went to gather her usual things from the study.

Her usual things were ready and waiting for her on her father's desk, laid out as he had learned she liked them. There were a few vials of ink and her favorite quill, carefully stored in a leather pouch. A thick book, its binding well-worn from use. Another newer book set beside it, most of its pages blank, waiting to be filled. And a short list of notes for her to work from.

Rewriting her father's first and perhaps greatest written work was a large task; he had only been a little older than she was, when he had first sat down to write down the details of his adventures. He had finished the process in a matter of weeks. Getting those details out of his head and onto something solid, tangible, which could be used for generations to come, had eased a tremendous weight from his very soul, he had explained before. Star supposed she understood. Her father had seen and done many amazing and terrifying things as a boy. She would have wanted it all out of her system, too.

Her father had always had a way with spoken words; at the age of 15, though, he hadn't been the best speller. He had also written the stories in a bit of a hurry, eager to just have everything written down. He had said before, pointing out passages that were almost impossible to read, that he had sometimes lost himself in a fever of memories and great release, simply scribbling as fast as his fingers had allowed. In those fits, he had accidentally left out a detail or two that nearly ruined the stories entirely. Star had found these things out quickly the first time she had tried to read the book for herself. There were parts of it that just didn't make any sense, and other parts she couldn't make out at all.

Several months ago, she had decided that The Book, as she called, it, sorely needed editing and rewriting. And it needed it from someone other than her father, whose spelling skills weren't much better after all these years. She had taken up the task herself, and attacked it with a vengeance. Books were her favorite things in the world. It wasn't right that a book as precious as this one be so poorly written.

Her father had gladly let her do it, somewhat relieved that it was in the hands of someone who cared so much, and would work hard to make it perfect. As it was, he didn't have the time to do it as he had wanted to. So, it seemed, there were still a few things that the fabled Rowan of Rin simply couldn't accomplish.

Star quickly gathered her things into her nearby shoulder bag and slung it over her back, holding onto her father's list to study on her way to the house of books. It was her favorite place to work; it was cool and quiet, and people rarely came looking for her there. Whenever she had buried herself under a mountain of books, she meant business, and people knew better than to disturb her. She also loved the feeling of being surrounded by so much knowledge. She found it intoxicating.

Resolving to spend an uneventful but productive day working on The Book, Star left her mother a hug and a kiss goodbye before walking out the front door, and down the lane that led into the heart of the village of Rin.

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	2. Family of Heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a mass of more exposition. It's been 18 years, and it's only right that we catch up with some of our favorite peeps. Find out who's still alive, what they're up to, and where Star fits into it all. The answers are, respectively: LOL, not Lann; nothing much; and, sometimes, awkwardly.

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_Chapter 2: Family of Heroes_

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It was springtime in the valley, for sure. All its signs hummed around Star as she walked down the lane, which wound alongside the village orchards. Her grandfather was probably somewhere in those trees, tending to them as he had all his life. It was a stroll that Star appreciated, no matter what time of year it was. But spring was her favorite time to enjoy the trees. She could almost feel life and energy surging back through them, after a chilly winter. She felt energized, just looking at the trees and their new blossoms.

Up ahead, she heard familiar voices carrying on a rather loud conversation. She quickened her pace and soon rounded a turn in the lane. Not too far ahead, she saw her father standing in the middle of the lane, speaking loudly to the treetops.

"Don't you have work of your own to be doing?" he was saying. "I'm busy, myself. You're distracting me."

"Distracting you is my job," retorted a voice from somewhere in the tree's thick foliage. "What are little sisters for?"

"So this is where you've been," Star teased brightly, finally catching up with her father. "I was waiting for you, and you never came back. You always let Alanis get to you."

"I can hear you, Star."

"I know," she grinned, peering into the leaves at the young woman perched on one of the branches.

"Though this argument has been stimulating," her father interrupted, rolling his eyes, "I'll take this as my queue to exit."

"You're just giving up," Alanis countered with a sly smile.

"I suppose I know when I'm beat."

Alanis rolled her own eyes. "Whatever."

Before leaving, he stopped to give his daughter a hug. "I'm sorry I missed you at breakfast, Star. Was there something you wanted to ask me?"

"Just to make sure there's nothing you left off the list," she answered, showing him the paper in her hand. He took it and glanced over it, finally, thoughtfully nodding his head.

"I think that's it, for now. I hope this clarifies some things."

"It does," she agreed, taking the list back. "I had wondered what some of those words were."

"Your enthusiasm is overwhelming," he said dryly. "We can expect to see you for lunch this time, right? It bothers us when you forget."

"I'll try."

"That will have to suffice, then. I shall see you both later today, then. And make sure you stop by the bakery before you come home. It peeves your godparents when you forget them so easily."

"I'll try to remember," she agreed, hugging him tightly before he left. Waving goodbye, he hurried away before his youngest sister could engage him again. She was always certain to try; but that was her own way of showing her affection.

Star turned her attention back to Alanis and shook her head. "You deprive me of my father, sometimes," she scolded with a smirk.

"He was my brother, first, before there was ever an idea of a you," Alanis teased back, jumping down from the tree, her long raven hair trailing after her like a streamer. Even though it was a long way to the ground, she landed effortlessly, with the ease of many year's practice. "Another set of notes? You're off to the house of books again, aren't you?" she guessed.

"I like it there," Star answered with a shrug.

"People are going to start thinking you're odd. They're all so proud of how normal you've turned out, and now you're out to ruin it."

Star scoffed. "I've never been normal."

"It's easier to be normal. People don't bother you as much."

"I suppose, but it's also more boring to be normal. I like myself the way I am, thanks."

Alanis rolled her vividly green eyes, and sighed to herself. "You'll get yourself in mountains of trouble, thinking like that," she cautioned, digging in her pocket. She pulled out a small bundle and handed it to Star, who opened it to reveal a small bread roll, still warm.

"I don't like what Rowan said about you skipping meals. You need your strength, dumb. I'll be going home for lunch on time, like a _norma_ l person, so I imagine you will need this more."

"This must be very fresh," Star commented, stuffing the wrapped roll into her bag. "I suppose Forley has been here recently."

"Perhaps," Alanis answered vaguely, letting her eyes wander into the trees.

"He's supposed to be at the bakery, helping his father, like a _normal_ person."

"He's a restless person. He can't help himself, sometimes."

"He'll cause enough problems of his own, like that," Star pointed out, turning to go on her own way.

"What can I say? I never mind a brief distraction from those I love," Alanis answered with a smile. "I can't bring myself to scold him anymore. I gave up trying a long time ago, but maybe he would listen to you."

As she waved a goodbye of her own, Star highly doubted that. Forley never listened to anyone but himself. And he certainly didn't listen to her.

Even though Alanis was her father's sister, it was nearly impossible to think of her as an aunt. She was only three years older than Star, and they had played together since babyhood. Alanis was one of her best and closest friends, and so it had always made more sense to think of her as a cousin. Not quite her sister, but more than just a friend. They were directly related, after all. There were very few secrets between them, and they intended to find their own adventures side by side, as the family that they were.

Her other cousins were a different matter. They were her godparent's children, and not related to her at all; but they were so close, it was easy to forget this. Allun the baker had always been one her father's most trusted friends; and so his son, Forley, and his daughter, Leah, had always been to Star. At least, Forley was. The two shared an adventurous streak and a love of being outdoors, surrounded by nature. He also liked to think of himself as her own personal bodyguard—which had been nice when she had been a little girl, but was now mostly a bother. Still, he was an almost constant companion, and she couldn't imagine getting by without him.

Leah had always been another story. She was a striking contrast to her older brother. She certainly wasn't faint hearted or a weakling; in fact, she was an excellent archer, in spite of her poor eyesight. She had worn spectacles for most of her life to compensate this. However, she had overwhelming problems with crowded spaces; the thought of the market, the square, or anywhere else there might be a crowd made her terribly anxious, and so she rarely left her home unless she had to. Many people in Rin had similar problems with other, equally normal things, but it was often agreed that Leah's problem was exceptionally strange. Star's father called these "brain fears": unexplainable, irrational mental fears of mundane things, which sometimes couldn't be overcome. He said it was unsurprising that Leah should have one, since her own mother had a brain fear of confined spaces.

It was difficult to know Leah well, since she made herself so scarce. One of the few who did was Star. Behind that strange fear, for which Leah had often been teased cruelly, she knew there was a powerful mind, and a heart that was perhaps even more powerful. Of the two siblings, Leah was the only one with any sense. She was careful and patient, not entirely out of necessity. Inside, Leah had the heart of a true guardian, and her sense of justice was strong. If Forley could be bothered to listen to anyone, it was his little sister, who was a bastion of wisdom and advice beyond her years.

Star was positive that she would bump into Forley eventually, if she just kept walking toward the village. No doubt, he had stopped to bother Alanis because he knew that his youngest cousin would be coming that way soon. The thought irked her, and she quickened her pace, hoping to slip past and miss him. When she had been born, everyone had told him to take good care of her, because she had no older brothers or sisters to do so. All three of her older cousins had been alarmed by this, at the tender ages of five and three. Alanis and Leah couldn't imagine not having an older brother; being a big brother, himself, Forley had decided that it simply wouldn't do, and had taken up the task of filling that void.

It was sort of funny. Once upon a time, he had honored that task by using his adorable, toddling cousin as a distraction, while he got away with all sorts of mischief. These days, he was the one trying to keep her out of trouble. He followed her nearly everywhere, hardly letting her out of his sight. Star knew that Forley meant well; but mostly, she wished he would stop worming his way into her business.

Star could picture how he would find her, because it was the same routine every day. He would all but appear at her side out of the blue, greet her casually, as if their meeting was just a happy coincidence, and proceed to follow her everywhere for the rest of the day. She would beg him to go back to the bakery, where his father was probably missing his help, because she was 13 years old and perfectly capable of looking after herself. He would lie and insist he was doing no such thing, and all he wanted was to know what she had been up to in the hours they had been apart.

Forley reminded her of a puppy, that way; or perhaps, more vaguely of an overly attached lover. He seemed to miss her entirely too much when they were apart, and he was always too eager to know what she was up to--where she was going, what she was to do when she got there, and who else would be there. Rarely so that he could join her, just so that he knew. It had been sweet, at first, but it was starting to make her a little angry.

Star wondered what it really was that drove him to be that way. Perhaps he really was only trying to be helpful, and was too self-absorbed to understand that he was going about it the wrong way. Perhaps he was hopeful that she would stumble into a grand quest someday soon, and was determined not to miss it. Or, perhaps, he was inwardly concerned about her for just that reason. Alanis was quite right about him: he was a very restless young man, and Rin was quickly becoming too small for him. As much as he longed for a good adventure, he couldn't stand the thought of his friends getting hurt in the middle of it.

It must be conflicting for him, Star thought as she walked, feeling a grain of compassion for her cousin.

Therefore, it was surprising when she reached the carpentry and still hadn't seen him. Like her parent's house, the carpentry was on the outskirts of the village. The people of Rin had to walk a long way to purchase their furniture; but Bronden the furniture maker needed her privacy, because of brain fears of her own. Star never minded walking past the place, though, because for her, the carpentry was one of her usual places. With any luck, her uncle would be in the yard, working on a project, and his sister would be sitting in the sun, keeping him company as she painted. They would wave and say hello, and perhaps conjure up a word puzzle for her to think on.

Shaaran and Norriss had come from the land across the sea many years earlier—it was a long and complicated story, which everyone from the hills to the coast was very familiar with by now. They were like a brother and sister to Star's parents; they frequently described themselves as four quarters of a whole, which could never be broken. Star had always liked that. She had often thought of herself and her three cousins in the same way, even though that bond had yet to be tested. The bond between her parents and her aunt and uncle had been forged suddenly, in desperation and panic, and then tested brutally by fate several times in the years that had followed. It was as if the first few hours of their legendary friendship had been so powerful, it had may as well have been forged by the hottest furnace, until the four souls had been fused perfectly together.

Those days of trials seemed to have come to an end. The valley, and indeed the whole land, was at peace now, thanks to them. The four souls were now living an oddly normal life, doing common work that suited them. Star found their contentment strange, considering everything they had been through together. But they always insisted that such times of peace and plenty were reward enough for what they had been put through.

Therefore, the brother and sister were happy to live at the carpentry, assisting Bronden with her work, because some of her old wounds had never quite healed and had left her deeply changed. Norriss had a way with putting things together, and had taken quickly to the work. Shaaran was in no way as physically strong as her brother, and the work didn't suit her in the slightest; but she was a better homemaker than both of her companions combined. It was a perfectly normal and easy role to play in their strange household, which left her plenty of time for her own work as the village chronicler. She had been persuaded at last to keep written records of important things that happened, as the people of Rin had done for a little more than three centuries; but mainly, and more happily, she painted it. On wide, long strips of silk, she painted their history, as their ancestors had done for thousands of years before them. It was a glorious tradition, and she refused to let it die so easily.

They were settled and very happy, now. If Star thought hard enough, she could remember a time, very early in her life, when they had been much less so. Her godfather's own mother had been their hostess when they had first come to the village; even though they had appeared out of the blue and were strangers, she had graciously taken them into her home. Star remembered the woman Sara only dimly, because she had died when she was small. It had been a time of terrible sadness for her whole cobbled-together family. In a sudden show of compassion that people said was shockingly rare, Bronden had offered her home to the grieving brother and sister; they had already been assisting her for some time by then, and she had stoutly insisted that it was her duty to do so. And so the three of them had lived ever since.

That had been a particularly difficult part of their lives to say goodbye to, to close the door on and leave behind. The door that opened in its wake, however, had brought them no small amount of peace and joy. Time had marched on, and their terrible hurt had been healed by their hard work, their new purpose, and the new family they had become.

In the years since then, Star had come to spend almost as much time at the carpentry as she did at home, because her aunt and uncle now lived there. And so much closer to her house than they had been before! Having them so readily available was hard not to take advantage of, sometimes. When she had been small, her parents had often left her there for Shaaran to look after, when they had been especially busy, or if there was illness being treated in the house. She had passed those hours in peaceful pleasure, as her aunt had helped her learn to read and write, and even taught her a little of how the silks were painted. If Norriss wasn't busy, he would quickly carve her toys to play with, or tell her clever word puzzles he had learned from his grandfather; if he was busy, he would let her sit quietly and watch him as he crafted planks of wood into tables, chairs, bedframes, and other things.

Sometimes, if he had a few hours to spare, she would be watching him tinker with screws and scraps of metal, and strands of copper beaten into threads, as he tried to duplicate some of the impressive machines he remembered from his childhood, in the Zebak lands. They had harnessed machines of all kinds to make their lives easier and safer, he had explained once. He saw no reason why the people of Rin shouldn't do the same.

Star had learned much from her aunt and uncle, since she had been small. They had taught her as many useful skills as her parents had. They had also taught her that sometimes, things get much worse before they get better; but that if she kept hope in her heart, she was sure to find a way. Just as her father had taught them, when he was barely older than she was now. She loved them both dearly.

Perhaps they would let her hide in the carpentry today while she worked. If anyone came looking for her—Forley, in particular—they would expect to find her at the house of books, near the center of the village. Only a few people would think to look for her here, first. She quickened her step, hoping to find them as she expected.

When she rounded the bend and saw the carpentry ahead, she was slightly surprised to see that the yard was empty. Just as she was wondering where everyone she was expecting had gone to, she became aware of voices floating from the building before her. Voices she recognized, speaking sharply to one another, though she couldn't hear what was being said. Curious, she stole to the nearest window and peeked inside.

Once again, she was slightly surprised by what she saw. Her aunt and uncle were in the room beyond, and so was Bronden, but Star had expected this. What she hadn't expected to see was Annad, the older of her father's younger sisters, gripping a scowling and nervous looking Forley by his shirt collar, while she and Norriss argued back and forth. Shaaran and Bronden stood impatiently to the side, watching the scene with annoyance. As if the matter were no large deal, but extremely inconvenient.

Star wondered furiously what was going on, but realized at once that this was why she hadn't met Forley on her walk. It was sort of comic, seeing him gripped and argued over like a child, when he had just recently turned 18 years old. He looked absolutely indignant; but he also looked nervous, because the pillar-like woman who held him was the most promising young warrior in the village, and not to be tried. Her brother was a hero, and obviously made of magic, she often teased. He could probably turn you into a slug, if he wished it. She was, of course, merely teasing when she said such things; but somewhere in the part of her that still idolized her big brother, she might have believed it.

For a long moment, Star just watched the whole scene, unable to hear the argument clearly, and let her pale eyes slowly drift over her family. Dark-haired Shaaran, small and slight. Forley, who was dark skinned and curly-haired like his father. Tall, straight, sturdy Annad, with her long golden hair and flashing blue eyes. Norriss, who was oddly strawberry-blonde, but also tall and sturdy, his own eyes flashing, as well. Stocky Bronden, who was somehow shorter than Shaaran, and trying to scowl harder to hide the vague amusement in her eyes.

They were all very different from one another. Now that they were annoyed with each other, though, they looked very much alike, in certain small ways. Suddenly, they reminded Star of how their people must have been, thousands of years ago, when they had dwelt in the Valley of Gold. A time and a place where the strong and the weak, the bold and the gentle, and everyone between those extremes, had lived in harmony, as one. Star smiled slightly, as she imagined that most certainly, their people had enjoyed small moments like this one in those days, when they had been whole.

All these long years later, the people of Rin had come to favor the strong, bold extreme, scorning the weak and gentle as being wanting, forgetting that the ones they scorned were still a part of them, and still needed. Slowly, in light of the things they had learned recently, they were changing, trying to become the whole, balanced people they were in ages past. Such change would take time, perhaps many generations; but seeing the argument unfolding inside the carpentry gave Star hope that however long that change would truly take, it would be a welcome and happy transition.

As she continued to watch, she saw Shaaran's dark eyes slide toward the window and notice her. At first, Star expected her aunt to say something, point her out, and get her normal morning back on track. Instead, the woman shook her head, appeared to excuse herself, and glided out of the room without anyone stopping to respond. Star realized that her aunt was moving toward the front door, and so crept from the window to meet her.

When they met on the porch, Shaaran planted her hands on her hips and shook her head again.

"Some days, I simply cannot stand these people," she said tersely, unhelpfully.

"I had wondered why Forley hadn't met me yet," Star said, hoping to prompt an explanation. "I normally can't take five steps from my door without him latching onto me. What happened?"

"Apparently, Annad had gone to look for him, because everyone who needs him this morning has been missing him. He had stopped to say hello to my brother; and by the time Annad caught up with him, they were deep in conversation. You know how the boy rambles... Anyway, she yelled at Norriss for indulging him, and then he started yelling back, and the next thing we knew, they were having a lover's quarrel in our front yard. When we pulled him inside to try and separate them, she followed us inside and dragged Forley with her! And now-- _this_ is happening. Oh, that brother of mine...!"

It was unlike Shaaran to be so frustrated, especially with her brother. Star could see how the rather shy woman would be upset, though. She was slightly frustrated, as well; she understood what her aunt had meant. Annad and Norriss had an odd and difficult relationship, these days. As if the idea of being more than just friends had struck their fancy, but they weren't yet sure if it was a good idea to go through with. Also, a show of great feeling was the best way to make Norriss very uncomfortable, even defensive. So, instead of talking about it, as Star and many others in their family would have thought was sensible, they tried to avoid talking about anything at all. When they did speak, it was in the form of loud, pointless arguments, as if the sudden noise somehow made up for the silence between them.

Much like the argument they were having right now, which probably had little to do with Forley by this point. All at once, Star felt very, very bad for everyone involved in it—except perhaps for Bronden, who had looked to be enjoying herself, in spite of the scowl on her face. She also felt bad because she would be foolish not to use Forley's detainment to her advantage. She had every intention of slipping away while he couldn't run after her, leaving Shaaran to face the problem alone. There was little she could actually do about it, anyway.

Perhaps Shaaran had already guessed what she was thinking, because she smiled and shook her head slightly before saying, "I'll deal with my brother, Star. There's no need for you to get tangled up in his problems. Anyway, from the look of the paper in your hand, I'd say you have a lot of work to do."

Star smiled back, relieved that she wasn't abandoning her aunt entirely, and folded the list in her hand. "I'm almost done with the second adventure," she explained, stuffing the folded paper into her bag. "Mum and papa are in the Pit, but they haven't figured out what it really is, yet," she elaborated in a mysterious voice.

"Perhaps by the end of the day, they will have," her aunt suggested.

"Maybe. I want to really look up some things before I start writing everything down. I want to make sure I use all the right words in the right places. I want it all to be just right."

"You want it to be truthful."

"Yes, ma'am," Star beamed back. As chronicler and painter of the silks, Shaaran was bound by a pledge to only tell the truth with her work. It was something she took deadly serious; and she had done all she could to instil its importance in her young niece, who was now a chronicler in her own right.

That training had paid off. Star never wrote a single passage in The Book unless she knew for sure that she was writing the truth, and the whole truth. This was why she worked in the house of books, where other written histories were readily available to cross reference. This was why her father's notes, recalling exact details, quotes, and memories, were vitally important. This was why it was taking her months of slow, careful work to complete it. The Book was special. No doubt, it would be crucial in centuries to come, if their people forgot to heed the lessons it told. Within The Book were secrets to the land they lived in, lost and forgotten, and then reclaimed through painful trial and error. By her own father and mother. By her uncle, and the delicate woman standing before her.

If The Book was errant in any way, failed to tell the whole story, if any one detail was missed, it might one day come to ruin everything, all over again. All their hard work, their pain and their blood, even their friendship would have been in vain.

And she refused to allow that to happen.

Before she turned to leave, her aunt thrust a bundle of cookies into her hands, and cautioned her to keep track of the time. Apparently, she had also heard that Star had been missing meals; and now, true to her sensitive, anxious nature, she was worried. Star promised that she would try to be less careless, and hurried away. Before her cousin was released to track her down.

Though it was early, the heart of the village was already buzzing with its normal activities. Absolutely none of it was new or surprising, for she had seen it all every day since she had been born. She passed everyone she saw with a pleasant smile, and a greeting whenever she was hailed. The only trouble she met was from a small group of children, about her own age, laughing and whispering behind their hands as she passed, in spite of her plain appearance.

Star refused to let it show on her face how much their stares and whispering hurt her. She knew it shouldn't hurt, but it did, anyway. Alanis had been wrong. People weren't going to start thinking she was odd or different or strange—they already thought so. Most were simply too polite or too afraid of her father to say so out loud. Since she had been small, her father had warned her that it would be inevitable, and he had tried to prepare her for it as best he could. The hurt and the loneliness that came with being different could be eased with confidence and purpose, and from love and understanding, he had said; all the same, he had added, such knowledge is little comfort, when one is only 13 years old.

She certainly felt it now. Feeling her cheeks begin to burn from a surge of mixed emotions, she straightened herself even more, and kept striding toward the house of books, as fast as she could away from the sniggering gaggle of children. She knew them all fleetingly, from the few years she had spent with them under the teaching tree. Before her parents had grown tired of the teasing and bullying she came to face every day, and had kept her to study at home. Today, all this time later, she was at least equipped to ignore them; she knew all their names, but she only knew them as tormentors. None of them had changed.

But I have changed, Star thought proudly, as she at last approached her destination. I've learned more than they ever will, because my whole family is special, and they've taught me all they know. And most importantly, I've learned to control my temper. Once, I would have lashed out in anger, without bothering to think of what would come later. If I were any other child, people would be proud of me for standing up for myself; but I am different, and would only find myself in trouble. Now I know better.

Besides, she thought, feeling very flippant as she strode through the door to the house of books, why should I want to be like them? Especially when I can be me: Star of Rin, writer of books, daughter of heroes. Daughter of the Earth Titan.

That last thought made her feel as though she was glowing. Why be like them, when she could be her very odd, very special self, indeed?

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	3. The Lairad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an EXPLOSION of explaining, magic, and backstory. I normally don't settle down to explain so much exposition in one place, leaving little to unfold later. But it is long and complicated, and shapes the entire story; so we're just going to word vomit it all at once and get it the heck out of the way. And believe me--there will be plenty to unfold later.  
> Again, this magic system is a complex one of my own engineering, and this fanfic is only the springboard for it. Hopefully, this is merely the basis for an original fantasy series I will write one day. But it works very well with this particular story. I still refuse to believe that Rowan went on to live a nice, normal life in the end. He's too special. And I seriously doubt that Sheba have him the medallion TWICE without having plans for him later. We all know her better than that by now. ;D  
> So, mage. Earth Titan. Married to a Zebak. He's kind of a big deal. XD

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_Chapter 3: The Lairad_

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As soon as she was inside the cool dimness of the house of books, Star set about finding the tomes she needed. If she was correct, the ones she had been using all week would suffice; she knew exactly where to find them all. She knew the layout of the building as if it were her own home. The histories she was looking for were all exactly where she had left them the day before. She collected them quickly, and carried them to her favorite table near the back of the building.

"Back so soon?" asked a friendly voice. That was Violet, daughter of Maisie, who now kept the books in her mother's place with the help of her brother and her own sons. She had a kind heart, and was used to seeing Star. She helped the girl in any way she could, thrilled that The Book was being made ready to add to the village's collection. Star nodded agreement with a smile, and Violet smiled back.

"As always, if there is any way I can be of assistance, please let me know," the woman said politely, and returned to her own work.

Once Star was settled in her usual place, she began opening up the books to the places she had marked, arranging them in an arc on the table, as she liked them. In the space between them, she placed the old Book beside the new one, opened these also, and arranged her quills and ink on their right-hand side. Satisfied that her workplace had been properly set up, she sat down on and began to work.

For long hours she studied the scrawls in the old Book, and tried to match the words against her father's notes. The inclusion of quotes, things her parents had said to one another on their terrifying journey through the Pit of Unrin, was especially helpful. This alone painted a much clearer picture of what had happened, exactly. Whenever she came to a loss of good words, or had trouble picturing something in her mind, she would flip through her other books, looking for details she could use. She would scribble notes in the margins of her father's writing, organizing her thoughts and the words she liked. Only when she was satisfied, would she finally copy the complete idea into The Book.

The process was slow—she had been working on this particular tale for nearly a month, and it was only now drawing to a close. Which was kind of funny to her, because this series of events had taken place in a single horrific night. She knew the story well, because it had been recounted to her over and over since her babyhood. All of her father's adventures were common knowledge to her, which was part of why she loved being the one to write it down. This story, however, had always been her favorite; it was the one she had asked for most often, when she had been little.

"Tell me about how you and mum met and became friends," she would ask, as her father tucked her into bed.

"Star, you've heard the tale a thousand times, if you've heard it once," her mother would point out, amused, but eager to have her child asleep.

"That is no trouble at all, my small Star," her father would say instead, untucking her and taking her in his arms as he told the story all over again. Her mother would be reluctant, at first; but she would quickly join in, playing her own part in the story, and stopping to correct her husband when she felt he wasn't being elaborate enough in his retelling. Sometimes, when Star could no longer contain her excitement, she would leap up and pretend to be one of the flesh-eating trees, chasing them around her room, growling like a monster and latching onto them in inescapable hugs.

Star loved it when her father told her stories. Much like her, he only ever told the truth. He told the stories very well, much better than he had written them, with character and feeling; but he never exaggerated anything he or anyone else had done. Nor did he downplay the hard things for her sake, even when she had been a small child. It was his own way of making her strong.

She had made especially sure to ask many people who had been involved with the story about their parts in it, to make sure what she had written of them was as close to what had really happened as possible. That side quest had led her to even interview people who didn't care for her or her parents; but her insistence on being honest had caused them to set aside those differences for a moment. The Book was important to everyone. Even if they had been unpleasant back then, they knew they had a duty to contribute to its completion, and to be as honest as she was.

The hours went by in what seemed like no time at all to Star; she forgot completely to stop and check the time, as she had said she would. The passages she had planned to finish that day, which she had listened to so many times before, had been harder to face than she had expected. She was writing them almost the same way she had heard them told to her all her life. She had schemed for weeks what little twists she would work into them. Now that she was here, it was hard to write about her parents like this: alone and afraid, not sure if they trusted one another, being chased by flesh-eating trees through the ruins of what they now understood had once been their home. It was all so different from how she knew them now: confident and powerful, trusting in one another completely, using the knowledge of that evil place to propel themselves forward, into the future.

The few paragraphs she had floundered through seemed pathetic, compared to days when she had completed a whole chapter or even two before she had gone home for the day. The hours of research and interviews were nothing to her; that was half the fun of her work. If she was honest, the bulk of her delays were caused by hesitation, fear, and sometimes the inability to put her family's hardships into words. She had faced similar problems over the winter months, when she had begun The Book by writing down her father's first adventure. It had seemed easy then, too, for it was another story she knew by heart. But when the moment came to describe her godfather's inability to swim, her godmother's ridiculous fear of confined spaces, how her grandfather had nearly given up and frozen to death on the Mountain's summit, and how their hearts had all broken so unexpectedly...

Being honest had been so hard all of a sudden, when she could have easily glossed over it, or written something entirely different in its place. Something glorious and miraculous, and easy. Those brief chapters were very simple and wholly honest, in their completeness; but they had taken weeks to overcome and to finally write down.

Slightly exhausted from her struggling, Star closed all her books and stacked them neatly to one side, feeling in need of a short break. To fill that time, she pulled another, much smaller book from the bottom of her bag, and flipped it open to the middle. A little light reading and reflection would ease her mind, and perhaps give her the spirit to write a little more.

It was a book her father had loaned her from his personal library. More and more often, these days, he let her read from his own books on healing and magic, because he knew it was vital that she knew where she came from, and who she was. Also, he knew it would help her put the adventures of his past into perspective with what he had done with his future.

After hearing the stories for the first time, it might have seemed inconceivable that Rowan, the hero of recent legend, would have settled down and become a healer by trade. Let alone a truly magical one, since his adventures had always been overshadowed by some sort of frightening magic. 18 years later, however, that was exactly what he was. In fact, there was very little doubt that he was one of the most magical people in all the world. The talisman of gold that he wore at all times was not only proof of this, but the source of his power.

He had often remarked that during his adventures, he couldn't have wanted less to do with such power. It had been repeatedly thrust on him without request or warning; when he experienced the power of the Earth sigil for the first time, as a boy on an urgent mission, the idea had filled him with revulsion. He had thought of himself as a simple boy with a simple purpose, who could lead a somewhat normal life if only destiny would leave him be. But the power of the Earth sigil had bonded with him, and he had bonded with it in return. All of a sudden, there had been little left to do but accept the fact that his destiny was still to be met, and that he had a lot of training and study to do.

He had been left with few other choices. The Wise Woman Sheba still lived, but she had already been an old woman at the time. She had needed an apprentice to carry on her work, and quickly. All the other small, shy, weak ones she had hoped would take her place had died suddenly, tragically, before their time. She had almost given up hope that someone would come along to take the sigil when she died... And then Rowan had come along, completed every impossible task that had come into his way, and she had known. He was, without a doubt, the one destined to take her place. Not only as the village healer, but as the Wise One. As the one who would carry the sigil. As the Earth Titan.

And now, he was Lairad. One of the four great mages of the world, who bore the ancient magic of the stars, themselves.

The stars, in another, ancient, mystical language, were called Lairad. A collection of all the elemental energy in the universe, which shone so brightly from their own worlds that they were bright enough to see from all other worlds, far and near. In that pure, perfect collection of power, there was room only for creation—and create, the Lairad certainly did. The greatest of the Lairad had created the Dragons in millennia long past, and sent them to carry that perfect creating magic into other worlds. Yet each one came with its own element to rule over, one of the four World Elements: Earth, Water, Fire, and Air.

All combine in the Dragon's lair, her father had been told once. And it was truer than he ever could have guessed as a child. In the Dragons, the four elements combined perfectly, and balance was kept in the world. They, too, were called Lairad, after their mothers and fathers.

Slowly, over many thousands of years, each of the four great Dragons had been won over, in part, by humanity. One by one, each Dragon had gifted humankind with a part of their magic. A small piece of themselves, a powerful talisman wrought from their own bodies, each to one exceptional human being, to carry that power and share its ability to create. These talismans had been passed down through the ages, to this very day. Only one man or woman could hold all the power of a talisman at once. And so the balance remained kept.

These brave, powerful, destined people were called Titans, and were Lairad in their own respect. Even now, there were four of them, keeping their people's talismans.

Star knew the stories of all four talismans, how they had been created and given, and mostly where they were and what was being done with them now. Her own father was responsible for one of them. The disappointingly unlikely boy Rowan had grown up to become the Earth Titan, and wielded the power of the Earth sigil; for it turned out, the people of the Valley of Gold were also the people who represented the element of ancient, silent Earth. Their talisman had the power to grant prophecy, to heal, and even to cloak things and make them invisible for a short time. Earth was the element of solidarity and truth; but at the same time, it kept its secrets. The Earth Titans were excellent guardians of both truth and secrets, giving what they could, but holding back what they knew could be dangerous in the wrong hands. Indeed, there was no one better alive the sigil could have chosen to be its keeper.

Element Air was represented by the wandering Travelers, who had rescued and raised her mother; and their newly appointed Titan was none other than her adopted uncle, Mithren, who had also been a forerunner as a boy. Star had even seen their talisman, once—a magical crystal pipe, which could summon the wind from any direction, cause changes in the weather, granted clairvoyance, and sent messages on the wind. Air was the element of freedom and happiness, and was also the only truly neutral element of the four. It could do little to effect its brothers, and it could never be swayed by any of them. Earth, Fire, and Water conflicted one another in an endless spiral of chaos and destruction. When Air entered the equation, unable to really move or be moved, the cycle was broken; the elements flowed with one another instead of against one another, and creation was made possible.

Far away in Maris, on the eastern coast, the people of Water were led by the Keeper of the Crystal—who had once been Doss of the clan Pandellis, and was only still called so by his fellow Titans. This talisman, the legendary crystal of Maris, was unique in the way that it could show its keeper the past, present, and future in clear, exact visions, instead of in riddles or faint glimpses of time. It held the knowledge and wisdom of all its past keepers, giving as much as it took; for aside from purity, Water was also the element of unity and remembrance. While the other elements came and went, being created, existing for a time, and then fading, Water never changed. It rolled in and out, giving and taking, but always remaining. Always remembering.

Meanwhile, far across the sea, the people of Fire—the feared and dreaded Zebak people—brooded in their desert fortress, led by a Titan that the others had no hope of knowing. As far as they knew from study and meditation, the talisman of Fire was a shard of obsidian, for the rather rude, base mineral was precious and powerful to their element. And yet their real power was so much more than a mere token from their host Dragon. Fire was the element of valor and passion, burning fierce and powerful, all-consuming, but easily swayed for good or for ill. According to legend that was almost certainly true, the Dragon of Fire had been so moved by humanity, that he had surely endowed something solid with his power for a Titan to bear; but it was the only talisman that had not been wrought from himself. Instead, he had gifted his people with his own magical Dragon blood, infusing them all with his mighty power for all time. Only the true Titan could wield the power of the talisman, this much was true. But the Zebak all carried a trace of that power in their very beings. They were, themselves, all to be considered Lairad. No other people in the world could claim such a birthright.

The Titans of Earth, Air, and Water had wisely agreed to keep this knowledge to themselves. Star only knew of it because, after long discussion, her parents had agreed it to be only fair that she know and be prepared. When her mother was content to live so simply and peacefully, and so many people were still ignorant of who she really was, it was easy for even Star to forget that she was, herself, half Zebak. Half Earth, and half Fire. She was the only child of the reigning Earth Titan, and that was impressive on its own. It was a closely guarded secret of his, that she also carried at least a tiny amount of the Fire Dragon's blood in her veins. Only a tiny amount, but it was more than enough.

The Titans all had an innate ability to communicate with each other, because their minds were loosely bound to one another; Star knew this not only from her father's stories, but from experience. For as long as she could remember, she had often seen her father enter a trance-like state, as the three of them linked minds and spoke to one another from afar. It was a practical way for them to remain in contact, to discuss the happenings of their world, and make important decisions for their peoples. Yet, for all their relief and joy to never be too far from each other, there was a void where the Fire Titan ought to have been, and she knew it pained them all. For reasons that not even the Keeper of the Crystal could see, for it had happened so many ages ago, the people of Fire had broken away from the others. For many centuries, the Fire Titans had ceased to lend their power to creation and balance. Instead, they used it to wage war on their brothers, to struggle against them and conquer them.

In their youth, the Titans had wondered about this, as they rose to their power one by one. Even before then, they had wondered why the Zebak had always been so bent on destroying them, and what had been done to cause such ongoing conflict. Now they understood that it was simply in the nature of Fire to struggle so for power and dominance. Fire was particularly strong against Earth, could only be tamed by Water, and Air could do little to stand in its way. It was in Fire's nature to try and consume the other elements, to trample anything that would bend to it, and to root out and destroy its one weakness. The Dragon, in his natural state of balance and perfection, might never think of overpowering his brothers and sisters. However, with his fiery blood in their veins and a talisman full of his mighty power, a race of imperfect human beings might certainly think to do just that.

And so, however that rift had been made, it had happened. No one representing the people of Fire had joined the hive mind of the Titans in so long, it seemed impossible that it had ever happened once. The three who remained felt the absence deeply. They lamented that the rift between them and their long lost brothers and sisters might never be mended, that they would never be truly whole, and that the power of the Titans would forever be one of destruction instead of the creation it had been meant to be. They would always have to be in conflict, as long as Fire raged against them.

All of this was a heavy dose of reality, as strong as any potion her father could brew, that Star knew would never become easier to swallow. It was who she was. It was where she came from. But it was a lineage that was hard to bear in secrecy; her father had sworn her to keep the knowledge to herself, and she knew it was unwise to confide in anyone else. Not even her cousins were completely aware of it. Not even her grandparents, who were sure they knew their son so well. Her parents didn't like to think of it, and she didn't either, but she was the daughter of not one Lairad, but two. The daughter of a Titan and a woman of Fire. She had no real magical capabilities of her own, as her father did; but by blood, she was as much Lairad as either one of them were.

Star looked up briefly from her book for a moment, as another dose of hard reality occurred to her. With parents like hers... It was possible that she could actually be one of the most powerful, most important people ever to be born. The idea had occurred to her many times before, and she suspected that her parents wondered the same thing about her; but she didn't like to think of it. All she wanted was to read and write great books, to live freely and happily with her family, and make her home a better place in her own small ways. The destiny that came with being the most important person in the world was sure to be a big one. It would rip her away from everything she had ever known, and she would never be able to go back to the way she was. It would be more sudden, more painful, and more permanent than anything that had happened to her parents.

That was terrifying. And frankly, she had no time for that.

She sighed deeply and sat back in her chair, as she reluctantly remembered that she wasn't without her magical abilities. Normally, the Titans bonded fully with their talismans by a mystical rite, wherein they had to overcome the element they naturally conflicted with. The Air Titans were the lucky ones, as far as she was concerned, for they had no natural conflict, and simply learned to command their crystal pipe through training. For the others, it was different. For three centuries, the Keepers of Maris had been chosen by a man or woman of Rin—of Earth; and before that, they had been chosen by the lost, destroyed Maris clan representing the element which could absorb their power and render it useless. The Earth Titans were forced to undergo an equally intense trial by fire, the element that could most easily swallow them up. However the Fire Titans rose to their power, it certainly had something to do with water.

But Star was different, and obviously special. Apparently, the fiery Dragon blood in her veins was enough to count, for she had never had any trouble using the Earth sigil, herself. Not even as a tiny child. One morning, as her father had held her in his arms, she had held the gold medallion idly in her small hands as she had done so many times before, and asked a simple question.

"Papa, what we will do today?" she remembered her three-year-old self asking. Then suddenly, in a blaze of burning pain, she had received an answer that had left her unconscious:

_The father's power, bright and gold,_

_Reveals the secrets that it holds._

_The time for knowledge is at hand:_

_Reveal the mother's truthful band._

Star remembered the episode as if it had happened only the day before, though she had remained deeply asleep for most of that day. The force of those visions was enough to leave a young student or an aging master very weak, and craving sleep in order to recover. And Star had been so small and unprepared, her father had feared she had been struck dead from the force. When she had woken at last, with the rhyme still burning her brain, her parents had been beside themselves with worry and fear. Whatever they had planned to do with her that day, it had been put aside for later. Much later, for the rhyme had made very clear that there was a lot of explaining to be done.

Since then, her father no longer wore the sigil in plain sight as he had before, but kept it hidden under his clothes, where she would be unable to touch it. More recently, he had decided that perhaps, now that she was older and stronger, it was more prudent to train her to use it. After all, this unforeseen ability was only proof that the Zebak had dragonish blood in them all; if she possessed the power to use the sigil, it was her right to do so, and her duty to know how to control it. Her mother hadn't approved of this decision; she had stood against it with all her might, and had spent long days and nights quarreling with her husband over it. He had convinced her, in the end; but it had been another difficult test of their friendship, and their faith in one another.

Her training had begun in the previous fall. She would sit with her father in their garden and he would light a small fire, burning sticks of juniper incense, which flared bright green in the orange and red light, to help clear her mind. He would allow her to ask simple, harmless questions of the sigil; and the sigil would give her an equally simple answer. Answers so simple that they never even knocked her out, and were easy to decipher. While the experience still wasn't pleasant, it was becoming easier, less abrupt, and more useful. The words of prophecy no longer felt so much like coals burning their way out of her; and with her father's training and careful attention, she was learning how to think quickly to unravel the future hidden in the riddles.

True to its own nature, the sigil did, indeed, reveal its secrets; at the same time, though, it kept enough back to challenge its bearer to think. To use his or her head. To grow a relationship with its power, instead of just using it. All the talismans had their tricks, she was sure; but the Earth sigil was very picky, very clever, and very wise in how it handled itself.

That was her father's job, though. While she understood that her training was useful and perhaps necessary, she knew this skill was only for use in moments of direst need. The sigil had other powers; but she had no idea how to tap into them, and her father had no intention of teaching her. She may be Lairad, but she was not the one true Titan. She was more than happy to leave that work to her father, who had been chosen by fate and trained for the task.

Somehow, though, Star had a sneaking suspicion that she might not need that choosing or training for the sigil to answer her. She often felt as though the small gold medallion almost called to her, its creating energy singing into her very soul. She had been forged by fire in a most literal way; there was nothing to stop the power of the sigil from reaching into her heart and mind. Begging her to take it, learn of it, become one with it, use it. To take its great power and create with it, and heal with it. To share its light with all the world.

While the sensation was intriguing, almost too much to resist sometimes, it was frightening. She didn't like how the sigil's power wormed its way into her mind, trying to bend her to its will. She wasn't sure how her father could stand it. In fact, there were a great many things he didn't seem to mind, which Star was grateful she didn't have to deal with. The trappings of being a Titan would surely get in her way and hold her back. She had always been told she was too sassy and strong-willed for such a calling. Much like her namesake had been. She was beyond grateful that she would never have to take her father's place.

Star tried to push all these terrible thoughts from her mind and focus on her book again—it was a book on the stars, their names, and the constellations they formed. She had been enjoying it recently, and had been excited to pick it up again. Now that she was thinking of the Lairad, the Titans, the Earth sigil, and her own magical blood and her destiny, it seemed impossible to concentrate. Frustrated with herself, she closed the book and stuffed it back into her bag.

All at once, it occurred to her that she had no idea what time it was, and that it had been a very long time since she looked at a clock or even out a window. She swiveled around in her chair and faced the nearest window, shocked to see how deeply colored the sunlight outside was, and how long the shadows were growing. She glanced at the tall clock in a nearby corner, and groaned in annoyance. It was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon. Her stomach growled suddenly, also aware now that lunch was long over. She was sure to be scolded for forgetting to come home again. And she was still very hungry.

Sensing that she would get no more real work done that day, Star began packing her things away, and stacking her borrowed books to carry back to their shelves. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she also fished her bundle of cookies from her bag and quietly munched on them as she cleaned up her workspace. Violet didn't like it when people brought food or drink into the house of books, and she probably expected Star to be more respectful and careful. At the moment, though, Star was too hungry to care that much. She couldn't believe how ravenous she was.

It serves me right, for forgetting a whole meal again, she told herself. If I could bother myself to remember more often, I wouldn't be so hungry. It seems I'm always hungry, lately, and this is probably why. Alanis will laugh at me; Shaaran will be anxious; and my parents will be angry. All the same, I never _actually_ promised to do anything. I only ever said that I would try. But I didn't, did I... Oh well. I can always try to try again tomorrow.

"Hello, Star. Don't suppose you could spare a bite?"

Star sighed sharply at the mocking, unexpected voice behind her, and turned to narrow her eyes at the brothers who had appeared behind her.

"Hello, Matt. Hello, Luke," she greeted flatly, her eyes flicking respectively from one brother to the next.

"Food isn't allowed in here with the books, not even for you," sneered Matt, the older brother, in a superior tone of voice. "Your aunt's work, I suppose?"

"What do you care?" Star retorted. "You're not getting any of them."

"That's a pity," Matt continued coolly. "In exchange for those fine looking cookies, we might have been convinced to let you slide this time."

Star scoffed. "I'm not bribing you with cookies. They're mine. Anyway, I've been working very hard all day, and I'm starving," she said, cramming two whole cookies into her mouth at once, just to spite the brothers. She had never been great at sharing.

"Leaving so soon?" Luke teased, speaking for the first time. "We had brought a blanket and a pillow for you, so you could spend the night under this very table and not have to go home."

"Charming," she answered dryly, wondering if he was jesting, or if he had actually done this. Matt was a few years older than she was, and she knew him only as another bully from her childhood. Luke was her own age, and meant about as much as his brother did to her. However, it seemed that Luke had taken a fancy to her lately, and it made her skin crawl slightly. He tried to engage her whenever he could, attempting poorly to be a gentleman; but he always botched his attempts at flattery, because he didn't want his brother to think he was soft in any way. They two boys were rarely apart, and for some reason, Luke really admired his rather unextraordinary brother and wanted to impress him.

Having no one to look up to like that, Star didn't understand it. If Luke had something he wanted to say, she wished he would stop stalling and say it, already. The complicated social dance was a pain, and it wasted her time. She hated it when people wasted her time.

Before either brother could go on teasing her, their uncle came striding deliberately around a bookshelf, spotted them, and approached them with a stern look on his face. Star snatched the cookies off the table and stuffed them back in her bag, hurrying to swallow and brush the crumbs off her lips, before the man noticed. Indeed, it seemed that she had acted quickly enough. He wasn't paying attention to her, but rather to his sister's sons.

"Stopping to waste time with the healer's child again?" he scolded. "How many times have I told you boys to leave her be and not get tangled up in her affairs? Your laziness shames us all. Get back to your work, and don't let me see you speaking to her again."

The brothers muttered halfhearted apologies and scurried away as suddenly as they had appeared. Star was glad they were gone; but she didn't appreciate the way their uncle spoke about her. As if she were a scourge, or an object for passing amusement, and could neither hear nor respond. He hadn't chased his nephews back to work because they had been wasting time. He simply didn't like her, or her parents, because they were different. He didn't want his nephews involved with, who he thought of as, the wrong sort of people.

He turned his stony gaze down on her, and she glared back. Oh, she knew what was coming...

"I do not appreciate the way you come and skulk around here every day, making a mess of our books and distracting my nephews," he growled. "Sitting in the shadows, frittering away valuable time, as if you were doing something useful and important. My sister may not mind it, but I find it despicable. Your parents ought to be ashamed of you."

"Never forget," she spat back, unafraid, "that I am very much like my parents were, when they were my age. They weren't like you, either. And because they weren’t, they were able to save not only you, but everyone else in this village, many times. You should be grateful."

The large, muscular man towered above her, simmering visibly with rage; but he had been conditioned from his earliest days to keep his emotions hidden and under control. All the same, he was big and strong enough to snap her in half like a twig, if he was pushed to it. And he was unused to children talking back to him. Perhaps Matt and Luke had been taught to obey their elders immediately, and without question, and their uncle liked it that way. But Star had been taught differently.

"Grateful?" he demanded loudly, squaring his shoulders. "I am not grateful! Your father is a freak, your mother is a monster, and _you_ are named after a dumb, useless beast of burden."

Star suddenly felt her own rage boil over, as if a flame had been lit deep within her. She could feel it burst like a soap bubble. She jumped up so violently that she chair skittered backwards and toppled over, landing on the hard floor with a crash.

"Star was more useful than you ever were!" she thundered, shoving her finger as hard into his chest as she could. "The adder that struck and killed her had been aiming for my other—without Star, we would have both died! I am proud to be named after her!"

The big man's own rage boiled over—she could see it in his eyes as, infuriated, he snatched her wrist in his hand and gripped it as hard as he could. She gasped as pain surged through her hand, and her fingers went slightly numb.

"Gregory! What are you doing?"

"Unhand my goddaughter this very instant!"

They both turned toward the outraged voices, and Star was overwhelmingly relieved to see not only Violet hurrying toward them, but also Marlie, her godmother, who looked ready to strangle someone. The older woman was striding determinedly across the room, taking full advantage of her impressive height, her face thunderous; Violet almost had to scurry to match pace with her, but that didn't detract at all from how angry she was, herself. Nervous at the sight of them, Gregory quickly released Star and sort of shoved her away from him, as if he had never touched her and the action would excuse everything.

But Marlie was like a lioness, and always had been. If anyone threatened someone she loved, there would be hell to pay for it. In a few paces, she had crossed the room and snatched Gregory by his shirt collar.

"We do not, _ever_ turn our strength on each other—let alone on children!" she growled "As a respectable citizen of our village and a son of Rin, you ought to know better! You should be absolutely sick with yourself!"

Gregory began sputtering an apology, almost too fearfully quiet to understand. He suddenly seemed like a cowering, terrified child, and may as well have been. He was a grown man now, with authority of his own; but in this moment, Marlie was the adult, and he had no power over anything. She was his elder, to be respected and obeyed. That would never change.

Clearly disgusted with his cowering and babbling, she released him roughly and turned to swoop a protective arm around Star, pulling her away from him. Lowering her voice, she asked gravely, "He didn't hurt you did he?"

"No, I'm alright," Star quickly insisted, carefully rubbing her bruised wrist. Even though her godmother's wrath wasn't for her, she was still intimidated by it, just a little.

"Let me see," Marlie demanded anyway, taking Star's hand without waiting for a response. She looked it over briefly, then clicked her tongue in annoyance. "You seem fine for the moment, yes. Well enough to gather your things and come along. Quickly, now."

Star wordlessly obeyed, replacing her things in her bag and slinging it back over her shoulder, listening as the two women turned to one another.

"Marlie, I really can't apologize enough for this—"

"I don't blame you, Violet. I know you would have prevented this, if you could have. You take excellent care of her, and we all appreciate it."

"I will deal with my brother, and with my sons, as well. The way they speak to Star is unacceptable, and it will be corrected. You can be sure of that."

"Thank you so much for your help."

"And send my deepest apologies to Rowan, also; he should never have to fear sending his only child to work here. I can only imagine how upset he will be with me..."

To this, Marlie laughed sharply. "Rowan? Oh, don't worry about _him_ being upset with _you_. Worry more about what Zeel will do to your brother, should they cross paths," she remarked, as she began herding Star toward the door. "He would do well to avoid her, from now on."

Violet smiled sheepishly in agreement and thanks. "Feel free to come back any time you wish, Star," she called after them. "This will not happen again, I swear it."

Star didn't doubt that. All the same, she left the house of books that day, feeling for once that she couldn't leave fast enough.

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	4. Discussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was tired of Allun not appearing yet, so I fixed that. Sadly, he is not a large part of this story. Happily, Forley is a carbon copy of his father, only 5 times as goofy and inappropriate. Because Allun's goofiness is a defense reflex; Forley's goofiness is 100% genuine.  
> Also, the idea of Rowan and Zeel dating is adorable; but it turns out that the idea of them being married, and doing stuff that married people do—such as picking up after each other, fighting over things, raising kids, and, you know, living together in general—is by turns hilarious and amazingly real.  
> Zeel: I'm cooking fish for dinner tonight, okay?  
> Rowan: That poor fish... It was alive and breathing and you killed it!  
> Zeel: ...Darling, do grow a spine...  
> I like to think they've had this argument many times, and that Star laughs at them all the time for it, but that is neither here nor there.  
> Anyways...

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_Chapter 4: Discussions_

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For a time, Star walked along beside Marlie in silence, waiting for her godmother's anger to subside before striking up a conversation. She had to admit, she felt embarrassed for losing her temper the way she had. If she had held her tongue, her wrist wouldn't be bruised, and she would be in less trouble with her parents later. But she wasn't embarrassed enough to feel any shame. It hadn't been right for Gregory to speak that way to her, and it certainly was not his place to discipline her, no matter what she said to him. He deserved the earful he had received. Anyway, nearly any other child of Rin would have been expected to stand firm and defend her family. People should be proud of her, she decided.

"I heard what you said about Star," Marlie said suddenly, breaking the silence between them.

"You did?"

"I'm sure people heard it down the street. You were yelling very loudly. I don't know what that boy said to you, but it must have been very hurtful."

"It was."

"Oh, Star, you must keep better control over your temper. Things are changing, but that doesn't mean everyone is ready for it. To most of us, a show of strong feeling is still seen as the greatest weakness. They will tear you apart, if they think they can."

"What about you? Do you think I'm weak?"

Marlie smiled ruefully at the girl's logic. "Of course not. You are strong in your own way, just like your mother and father, and there is no shame in that."

"There are many people who believe there is," Star remarked glumly, letting her eyes wander to the ground. An image of the snickering children from that morning flashed behind her eyes, and she sighed. "People treat me like I'm so different from them. It's hard, sometimes."

"Well, that is because you are different—perfectly different. For myself, I like you exactly as you are. There isn't a single thing I would change about you."

Star smiled up at her godmother, cheered by her words. "Thank you, Marlie. That means a lot to me."

Marlie smiled back, and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Come with me to the bakery," she said. "If I'm right, you haven't eaten since this morning, and we need a hand cleaning up. And I won't let you slip out of the village without bothering to stop by and say hello today."

Star didn't try to argue, and let her godmother lead her. She felt in need of the cheer that only her godfamily could provide. When she was with them, all the rules and pretense that went with village life seemed to disappear; even some of her parent's rules could be overlooked, for just an hour or two. Cleaning up meant day-old muffins, rolls, and cakes that needed to be eaten right away. It also meant tea, and stories and songs, and very little actual cleaning. It was more like a small party. It meant being able to mock and insult the people who were mean to them, and let off steam without starting a fight. It meant being themselves for a while, without the walls they had to use around others.

When she was with them, she could call her godparents by their names. It was considered disrespectful to do so, and her mother might have popped her on the mouth for it, even now that she wasn't a little girl anymore. When they were alone, her godmother was just Marlie, and her godfather was just Allun. It was who they were, they said, and they saw no reason for her to call them otherwise. Besides, Allun frequently joked, such a title was far too dignified for him to bear, or have to live up to. He said it gave him the willies. When he was just himself, it was easier to be the friend to her that he was meant to be.

They walked the rest of the way to the bakery in companionable silence. But in that silence, Star was thinking back to the months just before she had been born. Now that it was on her mind, it was impossible not to think of her namesake, and what had happened to her. She had not been named after a dumb beast of burden—she had been named after a true hero, who was remarkably easy to overlook because she hadn't been human or able to speak in a tongue the people could understand.

But Rowan had always understood the bukshah; and he had understood Star, the largest and gentlest of them all, as surely as if they had spoken the same language. Before people had respected or feared him, she had been his only real friend. As a child, he had often seen her almost as a second mother. She must have been very proud to watch him as he grew up, found his place in the world, and found a mate of his own. And she must have been just as proud when she realized, as she must have, that he was to have a child.

Until only a few years ago, Rowan had continued to spend a considerable amount of his time in the bukshah fields, especially when he had study or meditation to do. It was still the place he felt most comfortable: in the sunshine, with the soft wind in his face, surrounded by the warm, woolly beasts he knew and loved so much. The day the tragedy had struck had been little different. He had been in the fields, as usual; and on that particular day, Zeel had decided to accompany him, even though their child was due in three months and already heavy inside her. She had decided that she needed the walk, if only to get her out of the house for a while. Anyway, she had grown to love the bukshah as much as her husband did, and missed them. It had been planned to be a fine, if not completely normal afternoon.

He had been sitting by the drinking pool, reading one of his books. She had wandered away from him to walk among the young calves, who had clustered around her to snuffle inquiringly at the swell in her belly, which they hadn't remembered from her last visit. It had been just before the first snowfall of another blessedly mild winter; the herd was growing restless, mentally preparing for their yearly trip up the mountain. All was as well as it should be.

All at once, Rowan had felt a warning twitch in his heart, as the medallion silently alerted him that something was not at all well. His dark eyes had shot up from his book, as he scanned the field for any sign of danger. And he had spotted it at once: a streak of jet black, slithering intently across the dead brown grass, directly toward the place where the calves milled around his wife.

He had jumped up in fear, and called to her to beware. She had turned to look at him in surprise, and immediately seen what he already had. Sensing their danger, the calves had scattered, running as fast as they could for shelter.

But Zeel had remained where she was, paralyzed with fear as she had locked eyes with the adder. Nothing frightened her, in general, but she had carried a crippling brain fear of snakes from her earliest childhood. In her mind, they were like the ishken of the west, she had explained. As a toddler, her people had cruelly instilled in her a terror of the loathsome monsters. As a foundling, adopted by the Travelers, snakes had seemed close enough to match the description in her young mind. They dwelt underground, preyed on smaller living creatures, and were, more often than not, inescapably deadly.

The fact that her adopted mother had, herself, been bitten and killed by such a snake, did nothing to help. Instead of turning and running, she had stood frozen as the adder continued sliding over the grass toward her. It was cold, and the snake ought to have been asleep in its den for the winter. This one, it seemed, had ventured out to hunt one last time before settling down to sleep. It had slowed its pace to stare back, no doubt curious of the woman's terror. To her alarm, it came to rest at her feet, staring up at her, daring her to make any sort of abrupt movement. The slightest errant twitch would be enough to provoke it. It had been so close, an attempt to flee would have been useless. It would strike at her heels, and certainly hit its mark.

It would kill her, and it would kill her child. She hadn't dared move, and neither had her terrified husband.

An enraged animal bellow had sounded across the field. Even the adder had turned its head slightly toward the distraction. And, according to Rowan, time had seemed to slow to a painful crawl.

Suddenly, Star was pounding furiously after them, to throw herself between her friend and the black snake. Zeel had been knocked to the ground from the force with a shriek of surprise. The great beast had reared up and brought her hooves crashing back to earth, trampling the deadly creature below her in a rage. It had only taken her a few blows to crush the snake. In short seconds, it was over.

Rowan had run to meet them, filled with triumph and relief. As he ran, though, both feelings had faded back to fear, as Star had begun to sway on her feet. By the time he had reached them, the beast had crumpled to her knees and was breathing heavily. Somewhere in those brief seconds of chaos, the adder had struck her. Perhaps she had known all along that this would happen; or, perhaps she hadn't thought of it at all, as she had rushed to the aid of the woman she knew and trusted. In any case, it had happened. The snake's venom had done its work horrifically well. It had coursed swiftly through her large body; and in minutes, she had died.

Zeel was probably only alive because Star had taken that blow for her, and given her life in the process. And the daughter she had borne had come into the world healthy and whole, in the following springtime, as predicted. The child had become the light of her parent's life, a sure sign that, no matter what anyone said, the bukshah were most definitely capable of experiencing and returning love. There was no better name they could think of for their daughter, than that of the beast who had saved her life.

Star regretted bitterly that she would never know her namesake for herself; but she liked to think that she did, in a way. Her father had been inspired to great courage because of his love for his dear friend. Much of his success was only due to his trust in her, when her sharp animal senses had seen what he had missed. When no one else had seen his worth, Star had felt nothing but faith in him. It had been a beautiful friendship, and it had ended so painfully.

And it ended for my sake, Star thought, feeling deeply humbled.

"You're awfully quiet, all of a sudden."

Star looked up to see Marlie staring at her inquisitively, while reaching for the door to the bakery. They had walked the rest of the way in total silence, and had arrived while Star hadn't been paying attention.

"I've just been thinking," she answered quietly.

"Anything you need to talk about?"

"No, I'm fine."

Marlie clicked her tongue in what must have been concern, and ushered Star through the door. "If you change your mind, you know that we'll listen. For now, though, let's have a little fun, shall we?"

Star agreed to herself that a little fun was exactly what she needed; and in that case, the bakery was, indeed, the only place worth being. The first thing she saw was Leah, sweeping the floor and humming to herself. Elsewhere, her father and brother could be heard singing the same song as they cleaned their workspace for the day. Leah looked up from her sweeping and smiled to see who was walking through the door.

"Welcome back, mother," she said pleasantly. "I didn't know you left."

"Just to the house of books and back," Marlie answered, taking Star's bag and leaving it by the door.

"And look who you've brought back," Leah added, setting the broom aside to give her cousin a hug. "We've been missing you, Star. If I didn't know better, I'd say you've been avoiding us."

"Well, I've been busy. I'm sorry."

"Is that Star?" someone called from the kitchen. Allun and Forley crowded into the doorway at the same time, looking surprised and excited to see her, but they ended up stuck in the small doorway in their rush.

"Why are you always in my way?"

"Why are you always in _my_ way?"

"I was here first!"

"It's my house, so _I_ was here first!"

"Stop shoving me!"

"Stop pushing me!"

Star rolled her eyes and laughed at them. The father and son looked, sounded, and acted so alike, it was sometimes hard to tell who was who. If only one of them were being serious instead of silly, it would have been easy to tell the difference; Star was certain that Forley didn't have a serious bone in his body. She had never seen him take anything seriously in her life. When he finally pried himself out of the doorway and dashed over to hug her, he was still laughing and joking.

"Ah, silly me. You would think after 18 years, I'd know how to walk through a door! I missed seeing you this morning."

"Yes, I noticed. It was refreshing."

A sane person might have been offended or even hurt by the comment, but Forley just smiled good naturedly. "I shall have to be quicker and more clever tomorrow, then. No trouble for you today? No faces I need to smash?"

"As usual, no."

"So quick to answer?" Marlie asked casually. "Gregory could still use a face smashing, if you'd like us to do it."

Star wished her godmother hadn't brought it up so suddenly, because now the whole family would be upset and angry. Forley's face lost its teasing edge, and a shade of concern took its place. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Star insisted through gritted teeth, shooting a warning look over her shoulder. "I don't want anyone's face smashed. All I want is to see all of you, and maybe eat a cake or two."

"Well, that is good," Allun agreed, "because we have quite a few that need eating. Everyone come into the kitchen, and we'll all get started on that."

"I'll be there in a moment," Leah answered, picking up her broom again. "Just let me finish with this."

"Nonsense," her father said, marching over to take the broom away from her. "There will be plenty of time for sweeping later. Come and join us. We won't start without you, you know."

Leah looked ready to argue, but her father stopped her with a look. She sighed in defeat, and followed her brother into the kitchen. Allun watched her with loving eyes, but it was clear that he was concerned about his daughter. He was used to all her quirks, and he allowed them because they were a part of who she was. He loved his child, and would never ask her to change for anyone's comfort. But if he said that those quirks didn't worry him from time to time, he would be lying.

A fear of heights, or water, or confined spaces was easy enough to hide, to keep secret from people who would look down on it as weakness. A fear of crowds was impossible to hide. Leah could barely stand to be around more than ten people at a time, before she began to panic. It had made her young life very difficult; it would make her adult life infinitely more so.

Star knew that her godfather must be thinking of this, because she knew him and the way he tended to think. But the look of worry vanished from his face, and he turned to her with a smile.

"I'm glad you came to see us today," he said, putting his arm around her and leading her into the kitchen. "There was something we wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Well, let's get to that in a moment. First, there's tea and cake to be had, and perhaps a song or two to be sung. You look in need of cheer, my dear."

Star smiled back, grateful that he knew her as well as she knew him. The friendship they shared was special, very different from the kind of friendship she shared with her cousins, or even with her own parents. She imagined that he saw them reflected equally in her. To him, she was an absolute triumph in every way. He would never ask her to change, either. He knew what it was like to be different from other people, and need to act on it, but have to hide it. If he could provide her a refuge from that, even for a short time, he always would.

There was already a warm pot of tea on the kitchen table, and a platter of the day's leftovers waiting beside it. There was enough for a humble feast, and Star felt her stomach growl at the sight and smell of it. She also noticed that the leftovers included a few light brown cakes soaked with honey—her favorite treat, which she intended to hoard to herself. Already, her spirits were lifting.

"Tell us, Star, how's working coming along with the Book?" Leah asked as they sat around the table.

"Alright, I suppose," Star answered, shrugging as she reached for a cake.

"You'll share with us, of course, won't you?"

"You must share with us," Forley insisted, because his sister was too polite to do so. "You must be nearly done with this part by now, and I'm dying to read more of da being his usual brilliant self."

"He isn't even in this chapter," Star retorted. "As it is, I've spent more time staring dumbly at blank pages, lately, than actually writing anything. Writing some of this has been... Hard. I'm afraid I haven't written much more than you saw last time."

Her cousins looked disappointed. "Have you even finished another chapter yet?" Leah asked.

"I've been trying to finish one for the last two days. I've written exactly four pages, so far, and they haven't even reached the golden wall yet."

"That isn't like you," Leah said sympathetically, sipping her tea. "Is it really that hard for you?"

"You'll have real problems, when they end up on the mountain again," Forley added, poking his little cousin's shoulder.

"Don't tease her like that, son," Allun said quietly, suddenly grave as he remembered what had happened that night, long before the boy had been born. "It may be marvelous tale for you now, but never forget that it is all true, and all as horrible as it sounds. Believe me, because I was there. The experience was far from pleasant, and I'm grateful not to be the one responsible for writing it down."

Star gave him a smile. "It is a hard job, but I'm glad to be the one to do it. Writing has always been my great talent, after all."

"Indeed, it is," Marlie agreed, affectionately patting the girl's right hand, with which she wrote. "You've been writing stories of all kinds since you were able to hold a pen. Before you had words to write with, you wrote with pictures. You're always making up the most wonderful stories, Star."

"Some of them put the Travelers' tales to shame, I think," Allun added brightly, much more himself. "Many a story teller would trade his own tongue for an imagination as fanciful and clever as yours."

Star felt her cheeks begin to burn from the praise. "I wouldn't say that. It's only what comes naturally to me. Anyway, telling imaginary tales is all well and good, but I'd like to start writing things that are true. Things that seem imaginary, but are real. History, but legend, but still history."

Marlie nodded understandingly, but she looked slightly disappointed. "It would be a shame to see such an active imagination set aside, only to make room for dry histories."

"Dry?" Star laughed. "Why, I could never write such a thing as a dry history. Just because something is fact doesn't mean it has to be boring. Amazing and beautiful things truly happen every day. And there are many amazing, beautiful, impossible things that have happened in our world, which people must understand really happened. I'm going to find them all, and write them down, so that all people will know which of our legends are actually facts."

Leah laughed lightly at the bold declaration. "Sounds like you have a lot of history left to catch up on."

"I don't mind. The Book is a good place to start. And, if you are really interested, you can look over those four pitiful pages. The Book is in my bag, by the door, so feel free to go get it. But I shall know if even one of my cookies is missing, so don't even think of touching them."

The brother and sister left the table together, intent on retrieving the Book from her things. Neither of them agreed not to touch her cookies, though, and she wondered briefly about that.

How many were left, anyway? She thought suddenly. Six? Seven? I've eaten four already, but.... How many were there to begin with? I can't remember now...

She dismissed the thought, and turned back to her godparents. "You said there was something you wanted to discuss with me. What was it?"

"Slow down, Starfire, I said we would come to that later, didn't I?" Allun answered with an exasperated smile.

"Now is later than it was before, and I'm burning with curiosity. Tell me!"

Marlie chucked over her tea. "The child has you there, my dear," she commented. "You had may as well satisfy her curiosity. You'll have no peace until you do."

Allun sighed and shook his head. "So it seems. I might have known; trying to argue with either of her stubborn parents has always been impossible. Oh, why did I allow them to have children? That was foolish of me."

The three of them shared a laugh over his pretended despair, but Star had to wonder why he was trying so hard to avoid this discussion, when he had seemed so excited about it before.

"Allun, please, just tell me what's going on with you. Have I done something wrong?"

"Far from it, lovely. You see, the two of us have been talking about this for a while, now; but we decided a few days ago that if there is a choice to be made, it should be your own. It would mean much to you, we think."

Star sat forward in her chair. "Okay, what is it?"

"Well, when we go to the coast this fall, we want you to come with us."

Star felt her heart pound with excitement, and her smile broadened into a grin. "Really? You want to take me to Maris with you?"

"It's well in advance, we know. But it's best to have the decision made now, so we can be better prepared later."

"We had hoped you would join us this past year; but when we asked your parents about it, they insisted you stay here," Marlie explained slowly. "Granted, you were very busy in the fall, and so were they. We chose not to bring it up with you then, because you would have only been disappointed and angry, and you had important work to do with your father. This year, we hope it will be different."

"Which is why we've put the choice to you, first. We know what the trip would mean to you, but we beg you not to make your decision lightly. It's a long trip, and a long stay, and a long trip home again. You've never been very far from this place, either. It's an exciting decision to make, we know very well; but by all means, make it wisely."

Star sat back, trying to take it in. She felt another surge of mixed feelings, as she faced the happy news. She was thrilled at the opportunity for her first real adventure. She was also a little angry that she might have gone on the last trading trip, and no one had told her about it until just now. But mostly, she was just excited, too excited for the anger to even take root.

She had been wanting to travel to Maris for several years, for a list of perfectly reasonable reasons, but had always been gently told that she was too young to go. That had always seemed a poor excuse, because all three of her cousins had been going with their own parents for years. For them, it was part of learning their trades. Star's family had little to trade on the coast, and so they never went on the trips. Her parents hadn't been to the coast since she had been very little, and she had never been there at all.

All the same, there were things in Maris that she was dying to see. The glittering waves and the sandy shore were tempting enough. The Maris also kept an impressive library, the hub of their world's history, which her cousins had told her many tales of. She understood that the library was two stories tall, and that the town's finest scholars were always working on new books to add to the collection. She longed to see it for herself, to watch the scholars at their work, perhaps even to join them briefly and learn all she could from them. Her heart yearned to pour through that vast collection of knowledge, to take from and give back to it, and remember every precious ounce of understanding she could get from it.

More pressingly, she wanted to meet her father's friends there. His adventure in Maris was as famous as any other, and it was the next one she would have to write. If she was unable to know them, or at least interview them, how was she supposed to be truthful in her writing? She knew the story, as she knew them all; but she didn't know these strange, silent people the way she knew her family. It was a piece of the puzzle she knew she couldn't do without. The thought of having to do without it anyway had been bothering her, as the writing of the second adventure began inching closer to its end.

No matter what her godparents said about choosing carefully, she knew that passing up this opportunity would be beyond foolish. And now she understood why her godparents had wanted to ask her, but had been so hesitant. Of course they knew that she would answer at once, without thinking. Also, it was clear that her parents had no idea that this was happening. Her own mind was made up. Her mother and father would surely try to talk her out of it, but there was no way she was changing her mind.

"I'm going," she said solidly, unable to stop grinning. "Oh, I am going, and no one can stop me!"

"Going where?" came Forley's voice from the door. He and Leah had returned, the Book safe in her responsible arms, and were staring inquiringly at her.

"No one is going anywhere yet," their mother informed them. "As it is, Star still needs to speak to her parents about it."

Star gave her an imploring look. "Do I have to?"

"Well, we're certainly not going to let you run off without telling anyone, if that's what you were thinking. You shall have to convince them, somehow. Otherwise, we can't take you. They are your mother and your father, after all, and we will respect the decision they make."

"Then convince them is exactly what I will do," she announced. "I will be going to Maris, and there is no Titan alive who can stop me."

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"No. Absolutely not."

"Aw, papa, please!"

"It's out of the question. You will stay right here, where you will be safe. And the next time I see Allun, I'm going to strangle him for putting these ideas in your head. You're not going, Star, and that is final."

Zeel stood in neutral silence as her daughter went on whining, wondering what her husband thought to accomplish by arguing. It would only make the situation worse, she was sure. She also wasn't sure what Star thought to accomplish with her whining, because that rarely convinced her father to do anything for her. Clearly, the girl was excited and desperate.

For herself, she couldn't see what the problem was. If Star wanted so badly to go to Maris, and someone was willing to take her and keep her out of trouble while she was there, there ought to have been no problem at all. But she knew her husband well, and knew that idea of their only child being so far away for so long worried him deeply. Rowan had always been one to worry needlessly, especially over the people he loved. It was his way of caring for them. Considering that he had honest magical power now, she felt more than ever that his worrying was silly.

"Rowan, my love, may I speak with you for a moment?" she interrupted, gesturing toward the door.

"I can't leave this now," he answered, not looking up from the simmering pot he was stirring. "There are patients expecting this potion tomorrow; and if it boils over, I won't have the time to start over again."

"Now."

At last he looked up, as if he intended to say no again, but the unimpressed look she pinned him with instantly changed his mind.

"Yes, dear," he sighed. "Star, look after this for me. I'll be back in a moment."

Star groaned in annoyance, but she obediently stepped forward to take her father's place at the stove. She began muttering angrily under her breath, stirring the potion with what seemed a rebellious vengeance, as her parents left the room together. They went into the small study and closed the door behind them.

"I can't see why you're so against this," Zeel commented, her tone matter-of-fact as always. "If she's been offered this opportunity, she ought to be able to take it. The trip could be good for her."

"Or she could walk headlong into trouble, and we won't be there to stop it. She's only a child, after all."

"She's 13 years old, Rowan. A child she may be, but she's hardly a baby. She's hardly a little girl, anymore. Moreover, she can take care of herself; we've both seen that. And her own reasons for wanting to go are far from self-serving. She could accomplish a great deal on this trip."

"She thinks she will find some grand adventure, if she leaves. What she will find is trouble. She's not ready for this; she is far too young, and not wise enough yet."

"You were barely older than she is now, the first time you went to Maris."

"And look what happened!"

"She's never even been away from Rin, not once in her life."

"My point, exactly."

"And how do you expect her to learn or grow, if she remains cooped up here for the rest of her life? Besides, think of what it would mean to our friends. They’ve only seen her once before, just after she was born. It would mean the world to them, to really meet her for the first time."

"I know, but... What if something goes wrong? What if something terrible happens, and we aren't there to stop it?"

"She will be fine. We've both taught her well, and she will handle whatever comes into her way. Anyway, she will be with Allun and Marlie. They will take care of her."

"That's half the reason I'm worried.

"Why can't you just trust her? Star may be a child, but when has she ever gone deliberately seeking trouble? A little excitement, perhaps; but trouble, or danger? She is wiser than you give her credit for."

"I do trust her. And I never said that she was foolish. All I said was that she isn't ready for this."

"Well, I think she is. I think she should go, if she wants to."

"I am her father, and I say no, she can't go."

"I am her mother, and I say yes, she can."

"Zeel..."

"Rowan..."

They both crossed their arms and stared each other down, locked in another battle of wills. It seemed to Zeel that this happened a lot lately, and it annoyed her. They had had their differences in the past, but she had thought that those days were mostly over. Now that their daughter was growing up, they had quickly found that they had their own ideas of how to care for her. When Star had been a young child, agreeing on what was best for her had been easy. Now that she was a restless teenager and able to act on her own, coming to agreements was often difficult.

The fact that her husband was a Titan, as well as a few inches taller now than she was, didn't make reasoning with him any easier. Not that reasoning with him had ever been particularly easy to begin with. Arguing with him had always been like trying to argue with a wall. He may have been diminutive, but he was tougher and more stubborn than he had ever realized. Now that he did realize it, and had the magic of an entire element at his command, he took full advantage of it. She glared up into his dark eyes, unintimidated by his power, and wondered vaguely at a time when he had only stood as high as her shoulder.

That time seemed impossibly long ago.

"Rowan, I'm going to be very blunt with you, now," she said crisply. "There are a great many things I have allowed you to do with our daughter which I didn't care for in the slightest. Some of them, I'm still not sure if I should have allowed so easily. But you are my husband, my dearest friend, and the father of my only child, and so I have trusted you. So I ask you, will you not trust me in the same way?"

He sighed slowly, and his face softened into an understanding smile. "Of course I trust you. I'm just... Afraid for her. I can't help it."

"Any father would feel the same," she agreed. "But Star is growing up, and she needs to find her own place in the world for herself, as we have. And if we keep her locked away from the world, she will never be able to do that. She would be safe and protected, surely; but we both know that she would be perfectly miserable."

"Yes, I know..."

He was so conflicted, torn between the knowledge that this day had been bound to come, eventually, and his strong need to protect his only child. Zeel understood why he worried the way he did, and she knew there was nothing she could really say to make him less anxious; but she wished dearly that he would just relax, and have a little more faith in their daughter. But, if she was honest with herself, the thought of Star being away for a month or more worried her slightly, too. She had never been parted from her child before. It would be a large step into the unknown for all of them. Worry was the least of what she felt over the matter, but it was still there.

At a loss for words of particular comfort, she stepped forward and gave her husband a hug. Never once had that failed to cheer him, when he was upset.

"Don't think for even a second that I don't appreciate how hard this is for you," she said quietly. "This is hard for me as well, you know."

"I suppose I will have to let her go, sometime. I don't like to think of it, but that day will surely come."

"We will reach that day measure by measure, as the family we are. You know, reading what Star has written lately has gotten me to thinking. It seems like an impossible and horrible dream. We are so close now, and so changed. It's hard to believe there was ever a time when I didn't trust you."

"It's hard to remember a time when I didn't have your friendship to count on," he agreed. "A time when I didn't think of you as my family."

Zeel smiled ruefully, as terrible memories came to her mind. They had entered the Pit of Unrin despising each other, furiously annoyed to be trapped in each other's company. She had thought then that he would be easy to control, even to ignore, because she had been taller and stronger, and Zebak, besides. The moment they had realized that they were both terrified, separated from everything they had ever known or loved, and very much alike on the inside, had changed everything in an instant. In a split second, they had become allies. In less than an hour, they had become friends.

And in less than five years, they had fallen in love and become husband and wife. What had begun as bitter hatred had quickly changed into the deepest, closest kind of friendship imaginable. There were still moments when they were angry with one another, because they were two very different people, and their ideas often conflicted. But that was all a part of friendship, after all.

Still grasping his shoulders, she stood back slightly and looked him in the eye.

"I love you, and I would never knowingly do anything to hurt you. Please trust me when I say that everything will be fine, in the end."

He sighed deeply, and let his forehead rest against hers. "Very well, then. I will trust you on this. It still worries me; but if she really wants to go, she may."

"She will be thrilled to hear it," she answered, giving him a soft, reassuring kiss. "You're a good father. There are few things you could do to make me say otherwise."

He regarded her with a grateful smile, perhaps also remembering the moment when their friendship had begun. "I love you, too."

"I know. You tell me so a hundred times a day."

"Not enough," he answered, opening the door and letting her step first out of the study. He followed her out, and walked with a new purpose back to the kitchen.

Star was still brooding over the stove, still mumbling to herself with a scowl on her face, though her stirring had slowed to a more careful pace. When Rowan leaned against the counter beside her, she staunchly refused to look up at him.

"Hello, Star."

"Hello, father," she petulantly muttered back.

"I'm going to make you a deal," he said evenly. "It is springtime now, and the trip is early in the fall. That leaves you easily six months to finish the Book. Complete your first draft by then, and you may go."

She looked up suddenly in surprise, nearly splashing some of the potion out of the pot in her haste.

"You really mean it?"

"Yes, I do. It is a challenge I believe you can rise to. Do you accept?"

Star squealed with delight, abandoning her stirring to embrace her father. "Yes, I do! I absolutely accept!"

He laughed and returned the embrace. "I thought you might. It is a generous deadline, so I'm counting you, understand?"

"I understand completely. In fact, I suddenly feel inspired to finish a few passages."

"Go to your work, then. I will take over, here. Thank you for looking after this for me."

"You're welcome," she answered brightly, kissing his cheek before darting out of the kitchen. As she passed her mother in the doorway, she gave her a brilliant smile.

"Mum—"

"Call it a late birthday present," Zeel said lightly, stroking her daughter's hair. With a knowing wink, she added, "We women have to have our ways, you know. Now go about your work, as your father said. You've a lot of work to do."

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	5. Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bronden has only one line in this chapter, but I think she steals the scene entirely. I can’t glance over that line without snickering to myself. Just a little comic relief. Ya know, from Bronden! Yeah! 8D  
> Also, Alanis has way more issues than she lets on. I seriously delved into her character right before I wrote this chapter, because the problems she is facing here are only the symptoms of a much bigger thing. More on that in the next book. ;)  
> PROPHECIES. EPIC FORESHADOWING. Both are thrillingly awesome in this chapter, so stay on your toes. Some details that don’t seem to matter will come back around to be very important in a few chapters. Stay alert. Don’t forget ANYTHING that happens.

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_Chapter 5: Preparations_

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Now that she had a deadline to meet and her dearest wish hanging in the balance, Star found that the things that had held her back for so long had disappeared. Even when she had to write the most intense parts of the adventures, and the fear rose to block her again, she would take a deep breath and close her eyes, picturing the sight of Maris as clearly as she could. Then, she could always find the nerve to press forward.

After that, finishing the second adventure took only a matter of days. She had continued to begin the next one on the same day it ended. The first few chapters were a mass of history and explaining, anyway, and she needed very few interviews to gather the information she needed. She decided, since she was only working on the first draft of the Book, after all, she would write what she could and write it as well as she was able, and then take notes from her other important sources when she finally met them. Then, when she wrote the final draft, she would make amendments based on her notes.

Perhaps, she frequently thought, she would travel back to Maris to work on the final draft with the scholars at the library. There, she would have the time, the resources, and the peace and quiet to make it perfect. The finished product would have to be free of any kind of error. Ink could never be erased, and the Book as it was full of crossed out and refilled words and passages; there were also notes she had made in the margins, and things she had marked to be dealt with later.

When he had looked over the completed second adventure for the first time, Norriss had shaken his head slowly over the idea that she had worked so hard already, and would eventually have to rewrite the entire thing by hand with the pressure of making no mistakes.

"The Zebak have a device for this," he had mentioned. "It's called a printing press, if I recall correctly. Hundreds of copies of a single book can be produced in a matter of days, without error, and exactly the same from copy to copy. I've often wondered how such a machine works, and have tried before to come up with a design that could come close to it; but such things were never meant for the eyes of a slave, and so I've never seen one, and have no idea how it might work. Ah, such a machine could change our world! I wish I could figure it out..."

"The Zebak have a device for everything, it seems," Bronden had commented dryly. "If I had a pence for every time you've whined about it, I would be a rich woman, indeed."

Whatever the stocky little woman had to say about it, Star had been intrigued at once. It sounded like exactly what she needed. She had always intended to pen at least five copies of the Book, because it was a tome that everyone in their world deserved access to, and ought to have at least one copy reserved in case something happened to one of them. The work that would surely take seemed daunting at times, and she tried hard not to think about. A printing press would solve that problem easily, however it worked.

Perhaps I shall have to sneak into the Zebak lands, myself, someday, she thought. Then maybe I could steal a printing press and bring it back for us to use. Or, at least, I could get a good look at it, then come back and tell Norriss what I've seen. Such knowledge would be a miracle to him. He can build anything; if anyone can build me my printing press, it's my uncle.

She wondered vaguely if the Maris scholars might have an idea or two on that. But then, something like a printing press would destroy their whole purpose, and would likely be seen as more of a threat than a blessing. The Maris were more wary of change than the Rinfolk, somehow; she had only just written of that, herself. Would they even deign to use a device invented by their worst enemy?

Probably not. If there was one thing they liked less than changing their ways, it was the Zebak and everything to do with them. It was a marvel that any of them, let alone three or four of them, had become friendly with her mother.

That didn't stop Star from dreaming of a printing press, as she worked diligently on the Book. She continued to work well into the summer, though she had decided to make a change of her own by working away from the house of books, when she could. If she needed references for her day's work, she would stop by in the morning, take notes on what she needed, and then hurry away back to her own house. She didn't want to see Matthew, Luke, or Gregory any more often than she had to. When she did see them, the boys would laugh and call her weak-willed for being frightened away so easily, and their uncle would give her a glare which she swore could melt solid bone. No matter what Violet said, she knew that she was no longer welcome there.

In fact, she had taken to working in the shade of the orchard. Being surrounded by nature had turned out to be as inspiring as working surrounded by knowledge. Also, she frequently saw her grandfather and her cousin as they went about their own work; and teasing her grandfather with her progress was always fun. For all his size and strength, Strong John of the orchard had always played a surprisingly minor role in the adventures. He was a powerful presence in each one, but the fact that he had always found himself so powerless in moments of true need still peeved him to his core.

This was half the reason that writing the tales had been so hard, before. It was hard to picture her imposing grandfather as being so helpless. Knowing that such a thing had happened, not once but in five monumental instances, was humbling. Reading the tales as they were completed, reliving those moments when he had been powerless to help his stepson as he plunged into terrible danger, was inwardly very difficult for the big man. He never would have let it show on his face, but Star knew anyway. Reading the original copy had been almost fun for him, because it had been ridiculously errant and easy to laugh over. Reading the new, nearly perfect copy, was a bitter reality.

But he read every tale that Star completed, and he did so happily, because he was so proud of her. Many people had opposed the idea of her parents marrying; and, shockingly, John had opposed it more strongly than anyone else. It had come from an honestly good place in his heart, because he loved them both dearly. He had guessed that they would face impossible hardships from the people who still disliked them; and many of those hardships had come to pass. He had tried furiously to talk them out of it, and it had dismayed him when they had eventually come to ignore him, even when he begged them to change their minds.

All this time later, he had learned that they were quite happy and content, in spite of the challenges they faced regularly. And he had finally accepted that his stepson no longer needed his constant care or supervision, because he was a grown man and able to take care of his family for himself. John had decided a long time ago to simply be happy for them, and the life they had made, and the triumph their daughter was. He wasn't related to them by blood, but he was their dear friend and meant much to them all. Whenever he referred to Star as his granddaughter, he did so in great pride.

One afternoon, just after midsummer had passed, John nearly tripped over Star as she dozed in the shade of one of his trees. The Book was closed, tucked safely in her arms, and her quill rested discarded on the grass near her hand. She looked pleasantly exhausted from her work, and he wondered if it was right to rouse her. Asleep in the grass, she looked more like her father than ever. The thought brought a smile to his face, as he recalled many days in the past when he had found Rowan looking exactly like this.

But he was unable to resist waking her, for a chance to get revenge for how many times she had teased him recently. He knelt beside her and shook her gently.

"Star, wake," he commanded. "We can't have you dozing off now, when you've important work to do."

Star's eyes fluttered drowsily, pale blue against her dark skin.  "I was just resting," she mumbled, not quite awake.

"Here I was, thinking you had a deadline to meet," he teased. "And you said only this morning, you were so close to the end."

She flashed him a brilliant, slightly devilish smile, and lightly tapped the Book with her finger.

"I know," she agreed. "And I did. I finished it."

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The days leading up to the trading party’s departure were filled with particular excitement. Star wasn’t the only one looking forward to the trip. Forley and Leah had been going on the trips since they were small, because both of their parents always went, and they counted the days to it all year. Leah loved traveling the free, open hills between her home and the coast, where there were no crowds to get in her way; and Forley had friends in Maris who he looked forward to seeing, as much as his father did. Allun normally wouldn’t have gone anywhere near the sea if he could help it, but a rare chance to see his old companions was impossible to pass up.

It was an important year for Alanis, as well. This year, she was traveling to the coast to trade all by herself. She had also been going to the coast from a young age, because her father had been teaching her this important side of their work. However, when he wasn’t tending his trees, John was busy with other work as the village elder—he had been chosen to take the post from Lann, who had passed away shortly after Star had been born. A month was a long time for their leader to be away from home, and everyone had anxiously awaited the day when Alanis could go alone in her father’s place.

That day had finally arrived, and Alanis was very proud. Also, she seemed quite ready to be away from the village for a while.

“The life of the village elder’s only daughter has its pains, as well as its joys,” she explained when Star asked about it. “Mother is insistent that I present myself to the people soon, so I might find a suitor as quickly as possible. She says it’s past time I leave the trees behind and think to my future. I wish she would stop badgering me about it. Whatever my future holds, it most certainly includes the orchard. Who else does she suppose will care for it, when father retires?”

“It’s just her way of being concerned for you,” Star pointed out. Her own mother often said the same, whenever Alanis complained. And it seemed like she complained a lot, lately. But it was the only truth there was to it.

“Well, I wish she would stop being concerned,” Alanis answered huffily. “She’s always trying to paint my face, and pin my hair up, and force me into frilly dresses that I can’t breathe in. She says it will make me more… desirable for a good husband. If that’s what it takes to get a husband, I’m not so sure if I want one.”

Star could see how her cousin would be so distressed about it. Frilly dresses and painted faces didn’t suit Alanis in the slightest; and a man who only cared about such things in a wife wouldn’t suit her, either.

She could also understand why it was so important to her grandmother, though. Jiller was normally a reasonable woman and an attentive mother; but Alanis was her youngest child, and it was a thinly veiled secret that she worried about the girl. Her older children had grown to become overly remarkable—Rowan was always in some kind of magical trouble, and feisty Annad was always trying to follow him into it.  Neither of them were the normal, manageable children she should have been able to expect; the knowledge that danger always seemed to be chasing them pained her, as deeply as their success filled her with pride.

From the day Alanis had come into the world, she had been determined that the girl would never find such extraordinary trouble. There would be no adventures, no monsters, and no magic clouding her life. Her older children didn’t particularly need the security of a settled marriage and a comfortable life; they were well respected, even famous, and would make their own ways in the world. Surely, though, Alanis was to be different. Surely, she would be like everyone else. She would take a husband who would provide for her, and live a life of comfort, as her mother had done. As almost every daughter of Rin had done since their people could remember.

Alanis was far from content with this prospect. She was tall and strong as anyone else, but she was different in her own ways. Like Star, she was like a female copy of her father—she was stoic, sturdy, and free in a way that was almost manly. She liked the solitude and peace of nature more than she liked dealing with people. Trees can’t fight with you, she said. Trees let you lead them; and if the creatures nesting in them have a problem with it, they find a different tree and leave you alone. People battle you for power; and a husband would demand that you follow him tamely.

Such an untamed spirit would never suit her mother’s plans for her. A respectable man would never take such an unruly young woman as his wife; Annad had already proven this. The pretty little child had grown into a beautiful woman, who had seen many a suitor come and go. Her fiery spirit had frightened them all away, in the end. That same kind of personality was strong in Alanis; for all her beauty, and for all that her father was their leader, she was too intimidating for any young man to brave.

John believed that this was for the best. He believed it would prove a worthwhile test for any boy brave enough to pursue his only child, as it had proven for his adopted daughter. Where Jiller only saw a string of missed opportunities, he saw a blessing. All the young men who had thought to pursue Annad had only done so because she was something of a legend. They had only wanted to be seen with a beautiful hero on their arms; but none of them had deserved her. Dragging her around to show off was impossible, and so they had given up. And they had given up so easily. None of them could have been bothered to be try.

And Alanis was so like her half-sister, John was certain that it would be the same thing all over again. Suitors would come and go, wanting to wed their leader’s beautiful only daughter, and gain glory for themselves without earning it. Even if Alanis was foolish enough to entertain such a suitor, he would never bless such a union. His own wife could lament, scream, even beg all she wanted. John simply wasn’t sure if there was a boy worthy of his daughter’s hand in all the world; and frankly, he didn’t care. In the end, it was her choice to make, and he was confident that she would make it wisely. And he saw no reason why she should change to please anyone but her own self.

Besides, she may have been Jiller’s youngest child, but she was John’s _only_ child. The longer he could keep his little bear cub to himself, the happier he would be. The thought of giving up her care to anyone made him more uncomfortable than anything else, and he tried desperately not to think of it.

It was a lot for one young woman to take from her parents, and Star was beyond grateful that her own parents would never put her though such a thing. Thinking of all this, it was no wonder that Alanis was so anxious to be leave Rin for a while.

I would feel the same, she decided. Certainly, mum and papa have disagreements over me from time to time; but they never get in my hair about any of it. I can’t imagine what it must be like, having your mother and father so tangled up in your own affairs, trying to plan your life for you. That would be a peeve like no other. For Alanis, it must be very painful.

She also imagined that her grandmother was probably in a bad mood about Alanis going on the trip, and resolved to avoid the woman as much as she could.

In the meantime, she let her three cousins fill her mind with ideas of the things they would do together while they stayed in Maris. Leah planned to take Star for long walks along the shore, where they would collect the shells and serpent scales that washed up in the tide. Alanis was excited to show her the sunrise and sunset over the water, and the clear brightness of the constellations in the night sky; she said that on the coast, over the vast expanse of the sea, the stars they knew so well had an unearthly beauty. And Forley wanted to introduce her to his friends—one friend, in particular.

“Her name is Iris, and she is of the Fisk clan” he explained. “You may have heard me mention her once or twice before, but I doubt you realize who she is. Or, rather, who her father is.”

“Well, are you going to tell me? I can’t exactly read your mind, you know.”

“Oh, you disappoint me, Star—your fathers are friends, and you just wrote about it recently. You could easily guess.”

Leah rolled her eyes at her brother, and answered for him with an excited smile. “Her father is Seaborn, who represented Fisk in the choosing. Do you understand now, Star?”

Immediately, Star’s face lit up. “I do understand!” she agreed. “He and papa have certainly remained friendly, in spite of the time and distance that has separated them. I never realized that he had a daughter—or any children, even.”

“His family and mine seem to understand each other well,” Forley went on, looking pleased to know something that Star didn’t. “Seaborn gets along very well with my own father; and Imlay, his wife, has taken up weaving as a hobby, so she and my mother are friendly and do a lot of business together. It’s little surprise, then, that Leah and I are friends with Iris. We have played together every year that we have gone to the coast.”

“ _He_ plays with her, is more accurate,” Leah interrupted. “And in recent years, they play together less than they run around Maris looking for mischief together. Last year, they snuck off to climb the cliffs, and were attacked and nearly killed by the fighting birds.”

“And they didn’t invite me,” Alanis added shortly. “I would have liked very much to test my strength against one of the fighters. And our foolish friend might have made it out of that adventure with fewer cuts and scrapes. “

“Perhaps we will try it again this year,” Forley suggested, winking slyly at her. “Perhaps, we will drag Star with us, as well. Then she can see exactly how fearsome they are, as Rowan did at her age. It will give her ideas for when she writes her final draft, which I think she will like.”

Leah laughed shortly. “Perhaps you will… If mother and father let either of you out of their sight. They swore to themselves that you would never do such a thing again, if they could help it. And they also swore that they would keep Star out of trouble. An encounter with the fighters is exactly the sort of thing that Rowan worries about, after all. If she comes back with such stories, he might never let her go to Maris again. And I doubt she would like that very much at all.”

Leah was right, of course; but Star couldn’t help but be excited by the idea of a short trip up the cliffs. A month was a long time to spend in such a strange town, with so many places she had heard of to explore. She had assured her parents that she would spend most of her time at the library, where she would be far from danger of any kind, and easy to find. She had also promised that she would obey her godparents while they were in charge of her, and that she wouldn’t cause them any trouble. However, if Forley and Alanis had plans to do anything more interesting than that, she was determined to join them. She had never made any promises about that.

The day before the trip found Star ready and fully prepared to leave the following morning. It was so close, she was nearly dizzy with excitement. She wasn’t too dizzy, however, to sit with her father in their garden to practice with the Earth sigil, as they had continued to do once every week. Her more practical side had thought that it wasn’t worth the fatigue it would bring, when she had to rise at dawn; another half of that practical side had laughed that notion away, because a chance to glimpse into the future before such a journey was be foolish to pass up, in exchange for an hour of sleep.

When she mentioned this conflict, Rowan laughed in agreement.

“There have been many moments when I’ve asked myself the same thing, and come to the same answer,” he said understandingly, handing over the medallion with an eagerness that made Star wonder briefly.

It’s rare to see him share its power so happily, even with me, she thought to herself. Perhaps he hopes that it will show me something that it’s been hiding from him. Perhaps he hopes it will urge me now, of all times, to give up my dreams of travel and stay here, with him. Well, if it does, I’m just going to have to ignore it, and face the consequences later. I’ve come much too far to just give up now.

She gripped the medallion loosely in her hand, focusing on its cool, solid smoothness against her skin. Her father hadn’t even begun to burn the sticks of incense he had brought—she could already feel its energy sinking into her, calling her mind and spirit to wake and be clear.

It had something very important to tell her. Something it was almost excited to tell her. All she had to do was ask the right question.

This is about Maris, for sure, she thought to it. Something is going to happen to me while I’m there. So tell me, small friend, what is going to happen while I’m away?

The words began to boil deep within her, as they always did; and she surrendered herself to their power without even thinking of fighting against it. She just let them flow through her, up from her heart and out of her mouth into the fresh air, where they would be free.

_A gleaming pen for writer’s hand_

_Awaits to shape our changing land._

The power faded as quickly as it had risen, and its sudden absence left her feeling drained and slightly empty. The prophecy had certainly been one of importance, it had left her more tired than it normally did. She felt herself falling backward, and braced her hands on the ground to catch herself. She also felt her father’s steadying hands on her shoulders, keeping her upright.

“It comes more and more naturally to you every week,” he commented, sounding far away in her daze. “The sigil certainly seems to like you, Star. Many months had passed before it was so comfortable with me.”

“It already knows me, because it already knows you,” she suggested drowsily, not bothering to bite back a yawn. He smiled down at her and pulled her close.

“Well spoken, my small Star,” he agreed. “So, it seems you are to find a new pen for your work, while you are in Maris. It must be a special pen, indeed; you already have quite a few of them.”

Star smiled vaguely at the thought. Pens were such mundane objects, easily crafted and used; but she had always appreciated how powerful they could be, in the right hand. Without something to write with, her work would be impossible. Without something as simple as a pen, there would be no way to record history, or to communicate with the other peoples of their world.

It was true that she owned several pens, of several different types—most were quill pens that she had made herself, quickly crafted from feathers she had found around the village; she also owned two with sharp metal nibs, which her uncle had made for her. She knew each of her tools as she might of known good friends, for they occupied most of her time, and had been through all her adventures so far with her. She couldn’t wait to discover her newest friend, awaiting her on the coast. A friend who would help her shape and change the world.

Yet it felt like the sigil had still been holding something back. That prophecy had felt so full of anticipation, as if it had been foretelling a storm by foretelling something that could mean anything. Star knew from the past that the sigil often acted this way. This was its way of being alive and present in the lives of those who controlled it, to be an active part of their lives instead of just an object of power to be used. The sigil had posed an unspoken challenge to her, by remaining on her mind for long hours after she had used it.

There was clearly so much more to that prophecy than it had seemed, and the sigil had done this on purpose. There was something it meant for her to find for herself, on her own, in her own way.

She sensed, for some reason, that her normally helpful and supportive parents would be of little use in finding this end. So, instead of asking them more about it, she chose to venture off on her own for a while to the far corner of the orchard—to seek the help of someone who wouldn’t try to shelter her, and give her the hard, blunt truths she was desperate to find.

Sheba was as much a part of Star’s life as any member of her family; she had called the weathered old woman her granny for as long as she could remember, and the ancient Titan had always agreed that it was more than acceptable if she wanted to do so. Unlike the other children of Rin, who knew her as a witch, Star knew her as a friend and teacher, as her father had come to. The woman was such a familiar sight that she had never meant fear or spite to her. If Sheba meant anything to her, it was advice, healing, and deep, vast knowledge.

It was commonly agreed that Sheba was greatly changed, since Rowan had become such a permanent fixture in her life. For the first time in her long and lonely life, she had found a companion who truly understood her—an apprentice, and a friend. She had become, dare the people think it… Almost pleasant to deal with. Her coldness had warmed, and her sharpness had softened, though neither had completely left her; it was part of who she really was, and could never be changed.

And whenever Star came to her with questions that her mother and father were leery about answering, a chance to challenge authority and bend the rules was always welcome to her. Sheba liked to chuckle to herself about a time when she had been younger and less cautious, and silently rebellious. The Earth sigil had rewarded her behavior by closing off much of its power to her, in her youth. Because of his true honesty and willingness to bend with it, Rowan had already accomplished more with it than she ever had.

“Your father could move the mountain itself, should he wish it,” she had said once. “I dare say, he has more power in one finger than I’ve ever had in my whole body before…” Then, regaining some of her old bitterness, he had added, “Feh, the boy really does believe the tales they spin about him. Foolish boy!”

For some strange reason of her own, Sheba could never resist a chance to put her apprentice back in his place. And in many instances, this stubbornness had worked in Star’s favor. Whenever her father insisted that she had worked hard enough for one day, Sheba always insisted that she work a little harder. Whenever he withheld knowledge for her own good, Sheba readily supplied it when she was asked for it. Whenever he hesitated, Sheba presented a clever challenge.

They had very different ideas of how to help Star reach her goals, and her full potential. Both ideas had their advantages, as well as their drawbacks; and she knew that she needed both, with all their ups and downs, if she was ever going to find her way in life.

Today was one of those days when it was clear that she needed to take from them equally. Her father had done what he could, for the moment. Now it was Sheba’s turn. And as Star made her way through the trees, she had a creeping suspicion that her granny was already expecting her.

She entered the clearing at the corner of the orchard to find it lazily guarded by another familiar sight. The enormous scaly creature called Unos milled in the clearing, grazing on the pale green grass that grew there, not expecting company at all. When Star came into the clearing, the grach raised her mottled head and hissed happily to see the girl. She abandoned her grazing and plodded right up to Star, butting her head against the girl’s chest in greeting, and snuffling her all over, looking for the treat she had come to expect.

“I know, I know, Unos,” Star said gently, gently pushing the creature off to dig in her pocket. “I haven’t forgotten you.”

She pulled a speckled green apple out of her pocket and held it out, letting Unos take it from her hand and devour it in one bite. As Unos enjoyed her treat, Star lovingly stroked the beast’s long, scaly neck. How different life would have been for everyone, without the help of this strange and unexpected creature.

Another treasure of the east, which we now call our own, she thought. First there was my mother; then, there was my aunt and uncle, and Unos with them; and now, we are even using some of their technology for ourselves. In small ways, it’s almost as if the people of Rin are conquering the Zebak, degree by degree, for a change.

Leaving a final pat on Unos’ shoulder, Star crossed the clearing and approached the hut that Sheba called home. Before she had quite reached it, the door swung open, and Sheba herself appeared on the other side.

“Welcome, dear little Mahna,” she greeted in her creaky, ominous voice. “You’ve kept me waiting, while you played with my companion.”

Star smiled down at her in answer, unapologetic. Sheba smiled slyly back, pleased with her sassiness, and waved her into the dimly lit hut.

“You knew I would be waiting for you, I think,” Sheba commented, lowering herself back into her chair by the fire.

“Well, you always know when I’m coming to see you,” Star pointed out, sitting on the floor in front of her.

“Have you been playing with the sigil again? Tell me of your practice, child.”

“It goes well enough. Nothing particularly interesting has happened so far.”

“Ah,” Sheba sighed, leaning forward. “Not until today, I suspect. Something is troubling you. Tell your dear old granny what is on your mind.”

Star paused for only a second, searching for the right words before she explained herself. Sheba was rarely unpleasant to her, but she had never been a patient woman.

“I practiced with the sigil this afternoon, and it gave me a prophecy.”

“Is that all?”

“No. This time, it felt like a _real_ prophecy. It was simple enough, but there must be something more to it. If there weren’t, it wouldn’t still be so heavy on my mind.”

“I see. Tell me the words.”

Star repeated the words she had been given. To anyone else, it would have sounded like a pointless rhyme with only a few meanings, not hiding anything at all. But Sheba listened intently, and made a very serious face as she considered them for herself.

“Hm…”

“Is something wrong?”

“I believe it is the words of change that trouble you so. They are very uncertain. They seem to speak of a time which looms on the horizon, too far off to see clearly, but speeding to overtake us all. Times of great change have come and gone recently, that is true; another such time will not be welcomed warmly.”

Star bowed her head thoughtfully, and a thrill of fear went down her spine.

“I am to play some part in it, this time.”

“Without a doubt! You didn’t think to be left out of it so easily, did you?”

“Well, no… But now that it’s almost here, I’m not sure if I’m… Ready for it.”

Sheba laughed sharply and sat back in her chair. “Your father was never prepared for such things. In my mind, it was half the reason for his success. Great plans and preparations are all good and well; but when the unexpected strikes, and all those plans are laid to waste, that it the true test of a person’s power. Your father did well, with what little he was given. And how much more have we given you, girl? Stop being so anxious. It is foolish.”

Star looked up to meet the old woman’s gaze, and smirked.

“Papa was always anxious. And you said, yourself, that he was the only one with any sense.”

Sheba was silent for a moment, and then she suddenly began to cackle with laughter.

“Ah, bitter logic,” she croaked, clapping her hands. “Well played, young Mahna, well played, indeed! At last, someone has learned something from the past.”

Star grinned triumphantly.

“It is true enough,” Sheba agreed, calming herself, “a healthy fear of the unknown keeps a person humble and alert. It isn’t a trait these fools know to respect, even though it has saved them time and again. But caution and anxiety are two very different things, my dear. Be cautious, girl—be humble and alert, for such things are virtuous. Anxiety will cause you to second-guess yourself, to doubt yourself, to fret pointlessly over what you cannot change. Anxiety is a crime which you cannot afford to commit. Not with the future as close as it is.”

Comforted by her words, Star nodded wordlessly.

“Your father is anxious,” Sheba continued slowly. “Skinny little rabbit has always been anxious, no matter how famous or powerful he has been. And with you due to leave in the morning, he is more anxious than ever before. I will worry over him on another day, though.”

“Why is that, if anxiety is such a crime?”

“It is a crime for _you_ , because your time is very close at hand. As for your father…”

The woman was silent for a long moment, staring deep into her fire, as if seeking an answer there. At last, she sighed deeply and settled deeper into her chair.

“Your father’s time has only just begun, at the same time as it has ended. He has played his part in our history, and has found his true destiny. But you, Mahna…”

“The time for me to play my own part is nearly here,” Star finished.

“We all have our own parts to play. Some parts are merely less interesting than others. The part your father was born to play turned out to be quite interesting, indeed. And so, it seems, will yours.”

“Do you know what it will be?”

“Of course not. I am a Titan, not a mystic. However, if it is answers you seek, you know how to find them for yourself.”

Star shook her head. “Papa would never let me ask something so complicated of the sigil. He would be far too afraid to let me try.”

Sheba grinned with what looked like mischief. “Well, then, you shall simply have to be smarter than he is.”

“That could be difficult.”

“It isn’t a great feat, if you consider it. Never in my life have I met such a brilliant idiot as your father. If you are really desperate for answers, you will find a way.”

Star lowered her head again, not sure what else there was to say. She certainly wasn’t about to steal the Earth sigil, even for only a few minutes, for a mere peek at the future. All the same, knowing that her destiny was so close that it was nearly hunting her was frightening. She suddenly couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. There was no way she would be prepared for it, when it found her.

“You are still fretting,” Sheba snapped suddenly. “Stop that at once! You have a long journey ahead of you, and you need your wits about you. Think to the morning. Be excited instead of fearful. Worrying will do you no good, now will it?”

“No, I guess it won’t,” Star agreed, climbing to her feet. “Thank you for listening, granny.”

“You have thoughts worth listening to, girl. It is refreshing to me. I shall miss sharing these moments with you, while you are away.”

“I’ll miss them, too.”

Sheba’s face turned thoughtful again, and she glanced toward the door. “Your parents have begun to wonder where you’ve gone. Best to return home, and rest as much as you can before your journey. Your practice has left you tired and uneasy; let a long and peaceful sleep ease your mind.”

“I shall rest as peacefully as I can, I promise.”

Satisfied, Sheba nodded and waved her hand toward the door. “Good fortune, and safe travels, then. We shall meet again, upon your return. I expect to hear fantastic tales from you, Mahna.”

“They will be the most fantastic,” Star grinned back. “I promise that, too.”  

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	6. To The Coast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being the immovable rock that she is, Asha is a constant source of humor for me. She’s so darned serious—she leaves herself open for it. XD  
> Also, a note on the architecture described later. Having lived on the coast all my life, I really appreciate that the Maris build dome-shaped houses. In fact, I sometimes wonder why we don’t build more domed building where I live, like the early, wealthy colonials did when they settled here. The science that Star explains about it is true. If I recall correctly, there was a missionary group which took equipment to Haiti following the massive earthquake, specifically to build such homes for them. Aside from better withstanding hurricanes, the shape is better suited to withstand earthquakes—again, because the weight it more evenly dispersed, and the shape holds its own self up instead of collapsing on itself.  
> It’s really rather genius.

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_Chapter 6: To The Coast_

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Though the people knew to expect an envoy of traders from the west, the town of Maris was as it was on any day. Its fish-like people went about their usual business—a buying and selling wares, mending nets on the shore, sailing their boats and catching fish, or perhaps just sailing for their pleasure. It was a fine day for sailing; the autumn air was crisp and clear, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

The only thing that particularly stood out was three figures waiting in the square—one in blue, one in green, and one in shimmering silver—waiting to welcome the traders from Rin, when they finally arrived.

Seaborn of Fisk waited with a grin on his face, excited to see his friends again. Asha of Umbray was unusually antsy, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other. Perlain of Pandellis radiated a similar impatience, though he refused to show it.

Every autumn since the last and most interesting Choosing that Maris had ever seen, the three of them had volunteered before anyone else to greet Rin’s trading parties. Honestly, no one was surprised, and no one would have had it any other way. And this year, they had more reason to await the trading party than any year before.

Finding out after the fact that their Rowan had been married had been annoying to them all; and Perlain had been beyond furious to have missed it, because Zeel had been the bride. The news that they had been blessed with a child had been too much for any of them to bear, and so they had made the trip to see their friend when it had happened. It was the only time they had ever seen Star—she had only just been born, barely a week old yet.

That had happened 13 years ago. And now they understood that Star was traveling with the trading party, due to arrive that afternoon. It was enough to drive even Asha to distraction. The waiting was like torture to all three of them.

Hearing the noise and commotion of the wagons finally trundling through town only made the torture more painful. Asha wrapped her arms around herself, trying desperately to contain herself. Seeing this, Seaborn glanced at her in amusement.

“I’ve never seen you so excited in all my life, my friend,” he commented lightly.

“Are you not?” the silver-clad woman demanded incredulously.

“Quite the opposite. In fact, I may jump out of my skin.”

Beside them, Perlain snorted. “ _You_ may jump out of your skin? Consider how this is for me.”

Slightly humbled, his companions ceased their bickering and focused their attention back on the sounds of wagon wheels approaching the square.

The people in the square quickly cleared the way as the first of the wagons rolled through the street, pulled by a shaggy gray beast whose name they didn’t know, driven by a lone young woman with raven hair whose name they certainly did know. It was Alanis of the orchard, leading the party in her father’s place, smiling brightly and looking very pleased with herself.

“Whoa, Max, ease up,” she commanded, calling the beast by its name. Understanding, the beast slowed, and the wagon came to a stop. Behind them, other riders were calling out similar commands, and wagons were halting all over the square. Paying them little more mind, Alanis jumped down from her own wagon and marched up to meet her hosts.

“It never fails to amaze me, how your people have tamed such enormous creatures,” Perlain commented politely, walking to meet her.

“They’re pretty tame to begin with,” Alanis answered, shaking his hand warmly. “Anyway, it’s the least we can do to be kind to them—we’d all be dead without them.”

Behind her, Max made an annoyed rumbling sound. It made the three Maris slightly nervous; but Alanis reached her hand out to pat his nose reassuringly. The rumbling ceased, and the bukshah looked amazingly content for a dumb beast.

“The diva needs his attention,” she explained casually. “He hates to be left out of anything.” Returning her focus on her friends, she grinned. “It’s good to see you again, Perlain. Seaborn, Asha, you’re both looking well.”

“As are you Alanis,” Asha agreed right away, grateful for a distraction from her impatience. “You are alone this year, we see. Where is your father?”

“At home, taking care of business of his own. He’s busy this year, and so he decided to send me by myself.”

Of course, they already knew this; the Keeper had already told Perlain, who had told his companions. They were excited for the girl, at the same time as they were slightly saddened to be missing John. They all got a feeling that young, adventurous Alanis wouldn’t be as good at keeping peace among her people as her father was.

She somehow noted that disappointment, but misunderstood it, because she laughed softly and said, “It’s not me you were looking forward to seeing, I think.”

Perlain tried hard to keep his face straight. “We did understand that a certain young person would be with you this year,” he answered vaguely.

Alanis planted her hands on her hips and regarded him with a smirk. “You knew my little cousin was coming, then?”

This time, he allowed the barest of smiles to tug at his lips. “As the Keeper’s emissary, there is little I do not know.”

“Well, Star is behind me, somewhere,” Alanis explained, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “She is under my aunt and uncle’s care; so if you find them, you will certainly find her. And they are likely to find you, first.”

“That settles it, then,” Seaborn remarked proudly. “She will be staying with my family. Believe me, the three of us had fought rather bitterly over who would be hosting the child.”

Asha crossed her arms. “I don’t see how anything is settled.”

“Allun’s family always stays with mine, this you know,” he explained. “And if Star is staying with them, then she must stay with me. It simply follows logic, which I am sure you, of all people, will appreciate.”

Asha glared at him, looking on the verge of pouting like a child. Her glassy eyes darted away though, caught by a flash of brown and red as it jumped down from a nearby wagon. The brown was the hair and dark skin of a girl; the red was her dress, ruffled slightly by the breeze. The girl paused for just a second, her sky-colored eyes taking in everything around her in wonder and amazement. Her face broke into a brilliant, instantly recognizable smile, and she began to laugh joyously.

The girl’s laughter caught the immediate attention of everyone who was near enough to hear. Her own people mostly just shook their heads and rolled their eyes at the obvious show of feeling. The three Maris could only stand still and stare, thunderstruck.

“Maris!” she cheered, spinning in the street. “I’m finally here! I can’t believe it, I’m _really_ here!”

Asha touched a webbed hand to her heart. “By Orin,” she breathed, “there she is.”

“And how like her father she is,” Seaborn added, equally awed. “I haven’t seen that smile in many years, but I would know it anywhere.”

Perlain allowed his smile to grow nearly to a grin. “And how like her mother, as well.”

“Yes, she’s a marvel, for sure,” Alanis agreed, smiling affectionately after her cousin. “She’s been looking forward to this day as much as you have. She’s dying to meet you all.”

Still laughing to herself, Star stopped spinning and pushed her long hair out of her face. All at once, she was looking directly at them, and the look of wonder returned, replacing her laughter with a stunned sort of silence.

They were also stunned to silence. All three of them had been prepared to say so many things to her; and now that she was standing mere yards away from them, they couldn’t think of anything in particular to say.

She suddenly broke into a run, crossing the distance between them in a flash to throw her arms around Seaborn and Asha. Asha tensed up, unprepared for the uninvited embrace; Seaborn laughed softly and returned it at once.

“It’s good to see you, too, Star,” he said at last. To him, it was like a long awaited reunion with an old friend.

“My grandmother is alive because of you,” she said humbly, tightening her arms around them. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Moved by her words, Asha finally relaxed and hugged her back. “All in a day’s work, child, all in a day’s work.”

Star stood back a bit to grin at them in thanks and pure joy. She really was a marvel—she had never really met them, or even seen a Maris before, but it was clear that she cared deeply for them anyway. Seeing them for the first time, she hadn’t been puzzled by their customs or appearance, both so different from her own. She had greeted them with love, as if they were just an extension of her family.

Because, they supposed, they were.

After a moment, Star released them and turned to face Perlain squarely. With an unusual warmth in his eyes, he opened his arms to her in welcome, and in preparation for a hug that was inevitable.

“You are taller than I remember, Star, and more than I had perhaps expected.”

With a little less force than before, and with a few tears in her eyes, she stepped forward and delivered the hug he had expected. Indeed, she stood eye to eye with him, and would surely stand above him in another year. That was certainly a trait she had inherited from her very tall mother, and it made him smile inside himself. She was the best of both her parents. Perhaps for a short time, it would be as if they were really with him again.

Though he hoped with all his heart that there were no adventures in store for her here.

Alanis had waited in patient silence, but finally cleared her throat, uncomfortable with all the feelings flying around her. She was very like her own father, in that way.

“There will be more time for this later, Star,” she said, smiling in spite of her discomfort. “Right now, we have unpacking to do, and there will be mutiny if you run off without helping.”

Star shot her a teasing look. “Forley’s probably already run off by now.”

“And think of the trouble he’ll be in later. He’s a terrible example to follow.”

At the boy’s name, Seaborn looked up to scan the crowd in the square. “I should find my daughter,” he said, sounding slightly nervous. “The thought of those two running around unsupervised worries me… I can expect to see all of you at my home this evening, can’t I?”

“Of course you can,” Alanis agreed. “When has it ever been different? By all means, find Iris and stop her from dragging Forley into trouble. She’s always certain to try and succeed.”

The man bowed in salutation, and somewhat reluctantly stalked away into the crowd, calling his daughter’s name. His companions watched him go with a strange feeling of contentment. Forley was running off, looking for trouble; Star was greeting them as old friends, as if she had known them all her life; Alanis was standing stoically nearby, happy to just enjoy watching them. It was suddenly as if nothing had changed, and everything in the world was as it ought to be.

Asha stepped forward and put her arm around Star’s shoulder, guiding her back to the wagon she had appeared from. “Let us get you to unpacking, then,” she said seriously. “And let us have it done quickly. There is someone else who wants to see you.”

“Who?” the girl asked, her eyes alight with curiosity and excitement.

To this, Perlain chuckled softly. “Have you not guessed? He would have greeted you personally, if he were able; but you know the rules as well as we do.”

Somehow, Star’s eyes grew even wider as they filled with understanding. “You mean…?”

“Yes, I do. Indeed, let us have your work done quickly. It hardly does to keep the Keeper waiting on someone as important as you.”

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An hour later, Star found herself walking through the streets of Maris, guided by Perlain toward the Cavern of the Crystal. There was still some work left to be done, but she had been dismissed early for this errand. The only thing she had taken with her was the Book, safe in her shoulder bag, as always; Perlain hadn’t mentioned it, but she got an immediate feeling that the Keeper would want to see it.

“There are many things he wishes to discuss with you,” her guide commented as they walked, “but he has promised to be brief. He understands from your famous father that you have things of your own to see to, while you are here.”

“That is certainly true,” she agreed. “On that note, which way is the library from here?”

Perlain stopped and pointed off to his right. “That way, child. You will find it rather hard to miss from anywhere, as it is the tallest building in Maris. I trust you can see it from here?”

Star followed his gaze, and found that he was absolutely right. The details of the structure were hard to make out from the distance, but its domed roof loomed over all the other buildings around it. A surge of pure instinct came over her, tempting her to dart off toward it without a backward glance.

“I can see it. Why are there no other buildings so tall?”

“Because of practicality,” Perlain answered simply, beginning to walk again and prompting her to follow. “Anything built taller than the library could easily be destroyed by the hurricanes that often batter our shores in the summertime. This is also the reason why our homes are domed, rather than built straight up and down like yours.”

“I’ve heard of this. Instead of slamming against straight walls and blowing them over, the strong winds blow right over them. The weight of the structure is also more evenly dispersed, to better withstand the force of the gales.”

Perlain shot her an amused smile. “Very good, Star. You have been taught well, I see.”

She smiled back. “Papa insisted on it. And the ingenuity fascinates my uncle to no end, as well.”

“Yes, I remember,” Perlain agreed, sounding like he was suppressing a groan of patient annoyance. “Whenever Norriss is here, there is little else he wants to talk about. I notice that he is missing from the trading party, this year—which is of particular frustration to me, as I had hoped he might repair some things for me. Where is he?”

Star shrugged. “He hasn’t been well; none of them have been, actually. Shaaran caught a cold weeks ago, and still hasn’t recovered fully from it. Bronden and Norris had been fine until last week, when they finally caught it from her. They had all planned before to come with us, but now they’re all sick and in no state to travel. It happened quite suddenly. It’s very strange.”

“Hm. Strange, indeed.”

“Alanis had promised to try and do some trading for them; but she isn’t as knowledgeable as they are, and they are nervous about her efforts. They had been looking forward to the trip, if only to see the looks on your faces when I arrived. They were disappointed to have to stay behind this year.”

Perlain was silent, perhaps sharing Star’s feelings about it. To anyone else, it would have seemed an unfortunate coincidence. But with this set of infamously destined people, there were rarely coincidences or accidents. To Star, the sudden onslaught of illness at the carpentry felt like a trick of fate. Shaaran was of delicate health, and it wasn’t entirely surprising that she should be sick for so long; but Norriss and Bronden were almost never sick. The fact that they had all fallen so ill, now of all times, seemed almost unnatural.

Their absence made Star feel slightly exposed, with less standing between her and the unexpected. What if fate had spared them something terrible, but left her to face it without their support?

She shook her head, trying to push the idea from her mind. Even if there was danger waiting for her around the bend, she would be far from alone in facing it. Aside from her family, her father’s friends would never abandon her in a moment of need. They hadn’t said so, but they didn’t need to. She knew it was true, all the same.

Perhaps the Keeper knew something about it, and perhaps he would give her an answer if she asked for it. Hoping this was so, she resolved not to worry until there was a reason for it.

Anxiety is a crime I am not allowed, she reminded herself. I must remember that. Whatever is destined to happen, I must not be anxious or terrified. Cautious, perhaps, but not anxious. At any rate, Sheba will surely know from afar if I’m worrying, and she will scold me for it when I get home. And that would be a shame, after everything I will have done here.

The Cavern of the Crystal had been described to her many times, and she had thought she would be prepared to see it for herself. The actual sight of it filled her with an awe that she hadn’t braced herself for. Its face had been carved from the very rock that surrounded it, the stone polished smooth and gleaming white over centuries of wind and sea spray. Fire blazed from the platform above it, signifying to all that the Keeper was alive and strong below; the flame would burn lower and weaker as his life slowly waned, and would vanish entirely when his life finally went out—only to flare back to life when a new Keeper was appointed, by one of her own father’s descendants.

Hovering in the crashing waves, not terribly far from shore, the forbidding island of the Choosing loomed silent and ominous, devoid of life.

I must remember this view for when I write my final draft, Star thought to herself, drinking the sight in as deeply as she could as she was hurried toward the cavern. Oh, it is nothing like I had imagined! And nothing like what I had written before.

Perlain opened the doors to the cavern with a familiarity that no other Maris would have dreamed of. He was the Keeper’s emissary, his messenger and only tie to the world outside, and so spent more time here than anyone else. To enter the Cavern of the Crystal was a rare honor, reserved only for moments of true need or importance; but Perlain did so at least once a week. To him, it was a great privilege, but one he was used to. Entering the cavern meant no fear to him.

He stepped aside, formally letting Star enter first, because she was an expected guest. She hesitated slightly. The Keeper was one of the Titans, her father’s brother in magic. All at once, she was very nervous to face him.

_Be not afraid, small Star. Come to me. I have been waiting for you._

That split second of hesitation had been felt, deep below her. The Keeper had spoken directly into her mind, with a voice that was warm and welcoming, colored by an almost overwhelming sense of anticipation. Still nervous, in spite of everything, Star took a deep breath and stepped into the dimly lit cavern.

She knew quite well what to expect, from the tales alone. The room she had entered was empty, say for a torch burning in a fixture on the wall. The only other thing there was to see was a hole in the floor, with a staircase that led downwards into the Keeper’s sanctum.

_Of course, you know I am waiting at the bottom of those stairs. Please, make haste. Another second’s delay will cause me to expire before my time._

There was an easy, gentle laughter in the voice this time. Even though he was now the Keeper, it was plain that young Doss of Pandellis had changed very little in the last 19 years. Feeling and knowing this put much of Star’s nervousness to rest, and she started down the stairs with renewed excitement.

_Is it as they’ve said?_ She asked him in her mind, picturing the scene her father had described so many times. _The pattering waterfall, the rainbows, the—_

_Yes, yes. All is as he has promised. Come and see for yourself._

Pale, eerie light was gathering as she descended the stairs. She half expected to feel the Crystal’s power pulling her forward on a tide she couldn’t see, as it had done to her father on his first trip to this place. But her own energy and curiosity was enough to propel her forward. If the Crystal was calling her forward, she hardly noticed.

She reached the bottom of the stairs, and found herself staring into a picture she had often tried to imagine before. A web of light flickered around her in green, blue, silver, and all the other colors of the rainbow, as if she were standing under water. The light flared softly white just before her like a halo, its source obscured by a veil of softly pattering water from above.

_Ah. At last, I see you as you are. You burn as brightly as your mother. Please, step into the light, and see me as I am._

Bracing herself for the certain chill of the watery veil, she stepped through the veil. The sudden shock of cold chilled her through, and icy salt water streamed over her head and into her eyes. She gasped in surprise, blinking and rubbing the salt from her eyes, shaking the drops from her hair. Slightly disoriented, she looked up.

And there he was, in all his magnificence. The Keeper stood patiently before her, in robes which seemed white, but flickered with rainbow light. The same light shone all around them on the walls, in a never ending dance of life and utter, mysterious beauty. He had waited for her with a grand smile, and a recognizable, calm gentleness in his face. The wonderful Crystal, held in a loving, protective embrace, shone like white fire.

“Welcome, at last, Star of Rin,” he said out loud. “I hope it goes without saying, that I am greatly pleased to finally meet you.”

The words were spoken without the pretense that normally surrounded his business. They weren’t the words of memorized, ceremonial greeting, as should have been expected by any other guest. The words had come directly from the man’s own heart. A heart which was open and full of love for all things. A heart which was very like Rowan’s. He must have known Star very well, because he shared an unusual link with her father, and knew everything about his life in great detail; but it was never the same as knowing her in person.

Star was completely stunned by the reality of what she had tried so hard to capture on a blank page. She had been very close to capturing the truth, but she felt like she had still fallen quite short. And she had no words of her own, no idea what to say to the powerful, magical being before her. At a loss, she bowed humbly and tried to think of something to say. Something formal, something planned, that would give her a place to start from.

“Speak from your heart, then,” the Keeper suggested lightly. “You will find words there.”

He had read her mind. She had known all along that he could, but had forgotten. Even though he was obviously a friend and meant her no harm, it felt like an invasion. She could feel her cheeks beginning to burn with embarrassment.

She didn’t dare look up to face him again; but she felt his gaze upon her, and heard him laugh.

“There is little need for formalities here, young one,” he assured her. “Your father has cared little for them, in his time. And I sense that you are more like him than just your face.”

Finally, she dared to peek up at him, and a bit of her usual sassiness returned.

“I must assume so, for I hear it all the time,” she answered.

To this, the Keeper laughed more heartily than before. He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, guiding her into further into the rainbow cavern.

“There were many days, when I was younger, that I wished for such a sharp tongue to defend myself with,” he commented casually, being shockingly candid and personal with her. “I have little need for that, now. The ability to enter minds at will is startling enough, it seems.”

Star was amazed at how easygoing the man really was. She had heard stories of it from her father, and also from Mithren; they said that their brother was almost alarmingly normal in all that he did. He saw no reason why his station should separate him so greatly from the people he was sworn to care for. In the past, the Keepers had been overly formal, overly bound to ceremony, overly set in old ways. But Doss had been different, and that was why he had been chosen. That was why he was now called Keeper.

Star knew this very well, but seeing it so closely was startling. She hadn’t been sure what expect with her father’s most intimate friend, but she was sure it wasn’t this. As with her hosts, it was as if she were being greeted by someone who had known her all her life.

And, really, he _had_ known her all her life. He had been present in her father’s mind when she had been born, and all through her growing up. For someone who had never seen her in person, she supposed that he knew her frighteningly well.

“It is startling,” she stammered at last, willing herself to relax. “I should have expected it sooner.”

“You have many things on your mind,” he answered. “I will certainly allow it. Your mother and father are well aware by now that you have arrived safely, and that you are here, now, with me. Does this help?”

“Oh… Yes, it does,” she agreed. Far away in Rin, she knew that her parents had been worrying over her since she had left.

The Keeper shook his head slightly. “Your father worries needlessly, in my opinion. I believe you have things well in hand, whatever his doubts. Please, sit down, and talk with me a while.”

He gestured to a couch against the far wall, to which he had guided her, and noticed when she shivered with revulsion.

“It is not the same couch you have written of, where your grandmother lay dying. I made sure of it, as I knew it would pain you. Please, sit down.”

The Keeper had thought of everything, as he would have, of course. Not wanting to make him repeat himself again, she sat down at once, and he settled himself beside her.

“As you know, there are many things I want to speak with you about; but, as you also know, I have promised to be brief. Let me begin by saying, I know what you have brought here with you. A thing of great power, in its yet imperfect form. Let me see it, if you please.”

Star felt pride swell in her heart, as she took the Book from her bag and handed it over. Compared to the Crystal, it seemed like a mundane and useless trifle. It didn’t carry the power to summon storms, or looking to people’s minds. But the Keeper took it and flipped it open to a random page near the beginning, his webbed fingers caressing the pages with great reverence.

“Ah, yes. _All combine in the dragon’s lair_ ,” he said softly. “And how true, it is. The heart and soul and energy you have poured into this book…. I can feel its power, as surely as I feel the power of the Crystal. You have forged a mighty tome, indeed, Star.”

If it had been anyone else, the compliment would have filled her ego to bursting. From the Keeper, it inspired only humility.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, again at a loss for proper words.

He glanced at her, amused by her shyness. “The Crystal allows me to shape my own world, in my own way. My people need that much power to themselves; without it, they would destroy one another. It is a marvelous gift, to be sure. But the gift you have has the power to shape everyone’s world. These tales are important to us all, and will spare us much grief in the future. You have an excellent talent, Star. You have every right to be proud of what you have done.”

When Star maintained her humble silence, he cleared his throat and continued flipping through the Book with relish.

“Which brings me to the next thing I wished to discuss with you,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “You were given a prophecy just before you left Rin. Your father told me so, and your adopted uncle as well. Remind me again, what was it?”

Star knew that he knew the prophecy perfectly well. He just wanted to hear it from her own mouth. At the very least, it would break her silence and possibly begin an actual conversation. It was clear that he was dying to have one with her, and it was a topic she could discuss easily.

_“A gleaming pen for writer’s hand_

_Awaits to shape our changing land.”_

“Yes, that is the one,” he agreed, looking up from the book. “You may not have known this, but Rowan is concerned over what this may mean. The thought of you having to shape a changing land troubles him greatly.”

Perhaps it was the fact that he had called his brother by name for the first time that startled Star as much as it did. Alanis did so all the time, and it had never bothered her then. This time, though, it seemed like a much bigger deal than before.

“Why does it trouble him?” she asked, a little bolder than before. “I assumed that it meant I was to perhaps purchase a new pen while I was here. The pen with which I would write the final draft of the Book, which will certainly change our world.”

The Keeper smiled knowingly at her. “Never assume anything, young Star. It makes an ass of you and me, both.”

Star slapped a hand over her mouth to cover her smirk, and to contain a sudden burst of laughter at the Keeper’s clever but coarse wordplay. Indeed, what was the word _assume_ , but ASS, U, and ME?

“Laugh away, child,” he insisted, chuckling to himself. “It is funny. The Maris are not entirely without their humor after all. My good friend Perlain has gotten the best of your clever uncle Allun many times in the past, as you have written, yourself. And so much time exposed to the mind of a Traveler like Mithren leaves a mark; he is a good brother, but he has a sharp humor.”

“It seems disrespectful,” she giggled, “so speak of them so.”

“Ah, but here, we are alone. Perlain even waits on the other side of the veil, leaving us our privacy. Here, we may speak as we wish.”

“Papa may know, in any case, through you.”

“Yes, he might,” the Keeper agreed with a sigh. “Returning to your prophecy, though, have you not considered what deeper meaning may be behind it? Surely you know, there must be more to it.”

Star’s smile dimmed, and she sobered as memories from the week before flooded her mind. “I have thought of this,” she admitted. “I spent much of the trip here considering it. But I don’t see what more it can mean, presently. I fear that only time will truly tell.”

“Yes, my brothers and I had feared this, too. We care deeply for you, Star; we would never hope for you to fall into danger. We all wish that we could peer into the near future and tell you plainly what is in store for you, but this future has been withheld from us. The Crystal, normally so glad to show me the clear future, has veiled it from me. The winds bring nothing but silence to Mithren, when he asks; and the Earth Sigil guards is secrets well from your father. We know not why, but I can tell you this: it is all for a reason.”

Star tipped her head to one side, puzzled. “What kind of purpose is that?” she asked. “What use is it, then, to see the future?”

“Our talismans know our hearts well, by now, and how we would plan for the future,” he said with a faint shrug. “Perhaps they have seen a future they wish us not to plan for. Perhaps, instead of interfering, we are to let nature work its wonders on its own, without our help. I like it as little as my brothers do, but I will trust what the Crystal tells me. Never once has trusting its wisdom and knowledge led me astray—not I, nor any other Keeper to be appointed to it.”

“That must be very hard.”

“It is a grating task, at times, to wait and be patient while the world goes on turning above me. Oh, I would often give anything to leave this cavern and run to the aid of others in need of healing and counsel. Yet the Crystal begs me to patience, to weave its power into the lives of my people, and so all things work for the best. Far better than anything I might have planned on my own. The Crystal will not fail me, any more than the Earth sigil will fail your father.”

“So, then… All we need do is… Wait?”

“I know, it is not an answer you like to hear. We Titans dislike it, also. But I fear there is little else to be done. As you said, Star, only time will tell, now.”

Star couldn’t help but be disappointed. The uncertainty in the prophecy had been maddening to bear alone on the trip to the coast. She had hoped dearly that she might find a clear answer here. But the future was as uncertain here as it was in the west.

“Be cheered, Star,” the Keeper said abruptly, suddenly much brighter and less serious. “You are young, and there is much time for you to fill. And, if I am correct, you intend to spend much of it in our rather impressive library. You will be very at home there, I like to think. Explore it as you wish, and take time to ask questions of our acclaimed scholars. I had thought once to join them in their work as a child, before a different destiny found me. You will appreciate their work, though you will perhaps find it exacting.”

“I don’t mind,” she answered, grinning at him. “I could use a new challenge. It’s the most adventure I’ve ever wanted.”

“Excellent. Much to your father’s pleasure, it will keep you well out of harm’s way.”

It seemed to Star as if he was trying to conclude this meeting and send her on her way. That was odd, she had only just arrived and grown used to him; and he had been so eager to see her. Perhaps the Crystal was telling him something…?

He smiled softly. “Only that you are sorely missed among your family,” he said suddenly, having looked into her wandering mind yet again. “Iris of Fisk is nowhere to be found, and Forley the baker’s son has gone missing, as well. Their fathers are beside themselves with exasperation, and could use a cheerful pair of hands to ease their minds. I would keep you to myself, if I could, but I fear you are needed elsewhere, presently.”

Star rolled her eyes at the idea. “And he says that I’m the irresponsible one. Well, if a cheerful pair of hands is what they need, I certainly have one. I can come back later, can’t I?”

“Naturally. I will be here, awaiting your pleasure. If you do not mind it, I would like to keep the Book for a time. I want to read it, experience it—not through the mind of someone else, but with my own eyes.”

“I understand,” she agreed, rising from the couch, and wondering how she should farewell the Keeper. Would he settle for a simple handshake? Would he insist on a hug like his friends had received?

Seeing that she was still feeling awkward and unsure, the Keeper took her hand in his own and gave it a friendly squeeze. “We will speak again soon, young one. For now, run to your family’s aid. It will give me time to read the Book as I wish to; and when you return, I will point out improvements, if you would like it.”

“I would love it,” she answered brightly. “This is only the rough draft, so feel free to mark anything you want. Any help I can get would be wonderful.”

“I am glad to have your permission, then. I might have done so, anyway. I must confess, I am very excited about this. Especially about the parts where I am involved.”

“I hope I haven’t fallen too short, then. I would hate to disappoint.”

“I do not think you will, Star. I am confident that you have done well. Your father has always seemed quite pleased with your efforts. He says that your results are excellent.”

“Compared to _his_ version of the Book, almost anything is excellent.”

“Come now, child, do not be so modest. Take pride in what you’ve done. You deserve it.”

Star gave him a sheepish but thankful smile. He smiled back, his glassy eyes dancing with rainbow light, and he released her hand.

“I shall see you another time,” he said, a clear but reluctant dismissal. “Take time to settle down and make yourself comfortable. You shall be here for quite a while.”

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	7. The Bear Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, look, more magic and more backstory. Because Star is just as good as Rowan with exposition, when she wants to be. Or when I want her to be. Or whatever.  
> The Compass is part of my own magic system. If this were a real, Rodda-style publication, there would be a clear picture of it presented here. Alas, Word and ffnet do not allow this, and so I have it described as well as I can. There will possibly be a decent picture of it on DeviantArt soonish. Also, the elemental alignment thing and spirit animals go on to play a prominent role over the rest of the story, so pay attention.  
> Finally, the story that Star is about to tell is only one of four. The other three will be elaborated on in other books. Part of it is to keep you people reading; part of it is to keep me writing for you.  
> It is nothing like it was in the thing I had planned before. :P

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_Chapter 7: The Bear Queen_

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Perlain was also surprised that Star’s meeting with the Keeper had ended so soon, but he didn’t question it. He also didn’t question her, as he led her back to Seaborn’s house, where her family was apparently waiting for her. He spoke very little, answering Star’s questions as best he could as they walked. From nearly every street, she could still see the library in the near distance, and spent much of the walk resisting the urge to dash away from her guide. The fabled library was so close now, passing it by was almost unbearable.

She was very grateful for his patience and abundance of answers, though, because she had many questions for him. She was especially grateful for it once they reached their destination—as soon as she walked into the house, her two remaining cousins accosted her with questions of their own.

“So, how did it go?”

“What was it like? Was it really like standing underwater?”

“Did he read your mind?”

“Did he let you touch the Crystal?”

“Did he tell you where my silly brother went?”

“Oh, tell us everything! We’re dying to hear all about it!”

“Alanis, Leah, give the girl some air,” Marlie insisted, shooing them out of her face. “There will be time for that later, but we still have much to do.”

“It seems to me that you bring another few boxes of things every year,” commented the green-clad woman in the kitchen door, who was hauling a large crate after her. “Do you really intend to have _all_ of this sold in a month?”

“We hope so, Imlay. Times have been better and better in the west, and so we naturally have more to sell here. And your people have just as much to trade for it all. Times have been better for everyone, everywhere.”

Imlay smiled a slight, agreeing smile, and went back to hauling the crate into the kitchen. Seeing an obvious place to help, Star went over and began to push while her hostess pulled.

“It’s because of the Titans, I think,” she explained. “All three of them are strong young men, well suited to their elements; and they all came to their power within the same five years. The land is refreshed by their strength, and their unity. So, of course times have been good. They couldn’t possibly be better, right now.”

Imlay paused thoughtfully, leaning against the crate to catch her breath. “You must know much of this phenomenon. One of these Titans is your own father.”

“I do know a lot about it,” Star agreed, continuing to push the box into the room. “I know a lot about magic, in general. Papa has had me studying it since I was old enough to read. He says it’s important to understand, because it’s part of who I am.”

“He believes that long ago, all our people understood it,” Alanis added from the doorway. “When we dwelt in the Valley of Gold, a knowledge of magic was far from limited to just the Titan. Even though the people had no magical powers of their own, they still learned it and lived it. It was part of who they all were. Of who we are, today. At least, be believes this was how it was. Most of the records from that time have been lost, and excavating the valley is difficult and dangerous.”

“A fascinating idea,” Imlay agreed. “So, are you going to just stand there, babbling about the past, or are you going to help us unload this crate? I have no clue what Marlie might have filled it with to make it so heavy.”

“That is one of mine, actually,” Alanis answered, kneeling to prize the lid off the crate. “It’s so heavy because I’ve filled it with apples. And I pray you don’t find it too heavy, because there are five other crates just like it in the wagon.”

Imlay looked exhausted just thinking about that. “My people were hardly built for such labor. Your people certainly are, but I cannot imagine how you manage. It seems such a chore.”

“Not when you’re built for it,” Alanis answered teasingly, removing the lid to reveal a pile of speckled red apples. Even though they had spent a week piled in a crate in the back of a wagon, they were perfectly intact. As the lid was removed, their sweet, fruity scent flooded the room.

“Ah, I look forward to feasting on these,” Imlay commented, breathing in the sweet smell. “I might have to convince my husband to purchase this whole crate from you. I could put this fruit to excellent use.”

“I’d be happy to give you a friendly discount,” Alanis agreed. “I will just have to make up a story about why some of that profit is missing. My father misses nothing.”

Star helped them unload the apples into a basket that Alanis had brought with her. In the morning, Alanis would take this and her other wares to the Maris market to sell and trade them. Every day thereafter, she would refill the baskets from the crates and ply her trade all over again. Slowly, the sweet fruits in her wagon would disappear, to be replaced with money and other wares. Nearly everyone else in the trading party would be doing the same thing with their own offerings.

The idea of trade and business was thrilling but daunting to Star. Her cousins were all very good at it, because their parents had taught them so well. She, herself, had no head for it. What she had come to trade wasn’t tangible, or immediately useful. She had come to deal in knowledge. She would spend all her time working in the library, not the market. She would be surrounded by the silence of books, not the noise of crowds. No doubt, people like Gregory thought that she was wasting her time and theirs, running off to read all day while they worked hard for a month, to gain wealth for their village.

Many people failed to realize just how crucial her own business was. Who else did they suppose would keep their histories in order? How else did they suppose their stories would be preserved? They certainly didn’t have the skill or the patience for it. They must have seen her as a burden, an extra body to feed and look after, who wasn’t going to contribute anything useful.

That stinks like sulfur to my heart, she thought bitterly, not quite realizing that a scowl had slipped over her face.

“Star, my young friend,” Imlay said pleasantly, “you said a moment ago that you understand your father’s magic quite well. Perhaps you will explain more of it later. The Maris are not a curious folk; but, considering that I nearly lost the love of my life to such magic, I find that the business fascinates me more than most. I would love to hear more about it.”

The woman had noticed the sour look on her face, and was clearly attempting to distract her from her thoughts. But she was polite as any Maris, and would never have called her out in front of her stoic cousin. Star appreciated that greatly.

“I would love to explain it,” she agreed. “And Alanis can help, too. My father is also her older brother, and she knows much of his magic, as well.”

“Oh, I don’t know nearly as much as Star does,” Alanis insisted, almost bashfully. “I’ve studied only when I wanted to, and only what interested me. But… I suppose I’m quite good with the concept of spirit animals.”

Imlay gave the girls a curious look. “Spirit animals?”

“Everyone has a spirit animal,” Alanis explained, glad to speak of something she knew. “It’s like the shape of your soul, in its natural state. Each animal represents certain strong traits and abilities, which are very present in one’s personality. I love animals. I’ve studied it quite often, and know it quite well.”

“Alanis is so good with the study, she can guess a person’s spirit animal easily. And she is almost always right. Go on, ask her, Imlay.”

“Very well,” the woman said. “What is my spirit animal?”

Alanis looked up from her work, sat back on her heels, and considered the woman for a moment. “Well, you are a very diligent homemaker. You love your home, and everything in it. You are also very tidy, and don’t like clutter. I notice every year, the piles of boxes and crates upset you.”

“That is true,” Imlay said tensely. Now that it had been mentioned, there was no reason to hide her discomfort.

“I’ve had my ideas before what your spirit animal must be. But I am going to say…… You must be a spider spirit.”

Imlay looked unpleasantly surprised. “A spider? Why, that sounds ominous.”

“Not really, when you think of how spiders are. They are tiny creatures, but powerful in their own domain. They spin a new web every day, with patience and care, to keep them in proper order. In magic, spiders are a symbol of diligence, not menace.”

“Ah. Well, that makes me feel a little better,” Imlay agreed, relieved. “And that does seem quite accurate. And what of you, girls?”

Alanis grinned proudly. “I am a bear spirit, like my father. That is a guardian spirit, known for protecting and counseling the weak. And Star’s is a bee, another diligent spirit, who is never happy unless she is working.”

“I’m proud of my spirit, too,” Star added. “It’s very appropriate, don’t you think?”

“Yes, very,” Imlay agreed. “Oh, how interesting! I do hope you will tell us more this evening. And surely my daughter would love to hear it, too, if she ever comes home.”

Alanis groaned impatiently. “If Iris and Forley were here, unpacking wouldn’t be taking so long. I can’t believe that they do this to us every year. No doubt he’s helping her pinch other people’s wares for their own entertainment. I’ve never known a person as mischievous as he is.”

“He has to come back,” Star pointed out helpfully. “There will be supper here, later. If he doesn’t come back he will starve, and so will Iris. I still haven’t gotten a chance to meet her…”

“It was wrong of her to run off like that,” Imlay agreed. “We had warned her not to, even threatened her with her least favorite punishments. We had wanted very much for you to meet her. She is overly adventurous and prone to causing trouble, but our two families agree that you would like our Iris.”

“I can’t wait to finally meet her, then,” Star answered. “If she’s anything at all like Forley… I suppose I shall feel right at home.”

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Indeed, as their suddenly large family sat in Seaborn’s house for supper, Star felt very at home. Even though she was surrounded by people she barely knew, and the food was very strange, it was like an evening in her own home would have been. The adults were discussing their work, and what their children were up to, and teasingly wondering when Asha was going to find herself a good man. The youngsters were discussing their own small adventures of the day, speaking hopefully of how business would be in the next few days, and putting up with Forley and Iris acting like the clowns they were.

It was the first time Star had tasted real Maris food. She was familiar with their smoked fish and crusty biscuits, because they were always brought back from the trading trips. She was also somewhat familiar with the fish stew Imlay had prepared, because Marlie had brought the recipe back to Rin years ago, and often made it at home.

This time, the meal had been prepared by real Maris hands, and so she tasted the dishes for the first time as they were supposed to be. It was strange to eat a meal that tasted so strongly of fish and the brine of the sea; but all of it was delicious, and she relished every bite.

Mum wouldn’t care for this, she thought. She has always complained that Maris food is too salty for her taste. And she hates it whenever Marlie makes this stew. She even drenches the biscuits in honey, just so she can stand eating them. But I don’t care. I quite like it, and I’m going to miss it when we leave.

“So,” Iris said to her with a grin, “Forley says that you are writing a book. Tell me about it.”

“It’s a collection of my father’s adventures, when he was a boy,” Star answered.

“Oh, how exciting. Then my father must be in it, somewhere.”

“In the third adventure, in the middle of the Book, yes.”

“I hope you wrote him well.”

“It was difficult, and I tried my very best. As it is, I think I did a pretty good job on the first try. Of course, the final draft will be much better, now that I’ve met him.”

“You must share with us, Star. Oh, I am just dying to see it. We all are you know. I heard Marlie telling Asha and mother about it earlier, and they cannot wait.”

Star just smiled back, but said nothing as Iris went on talking about how exciting the Book was. Her hosts had been largely unaware of the Book until just now. She wasn’t sure how they would feel when she told them she didn’t have it with her, that it was with the Keeper, and that she would wait for him to finish reading it before she asked for it back. The adults probably wouldn’t be terribly upset or surprised; but she was sure that Iris would sulk until it was her turn to see it.

So far, Star had decided that she liked Iris well enough. She and Forley were as alike as everyone had claimed, and so she didn’t see how she could dislike the older girl. Iris was very enthusiastic and full of energy, and had an adventurous streak that was wild and overwhelming for a Maris. Her father had been a fine candidate to be Keeper of the Crystal; but the task would have suited Iris poorly, and she wouldn’t have served her people well at all.

She is far too self-centered for the task, Star thought. The Keeper should carry love for all his or her people. Iris loves herself, and her parents, and little else. She isn’t stupid, but she isn’t wise, either. And, frankly, though we get along, I think she’s obnoxious and perhaps a tad spoiled. And why shouldn’t she be? She is her father’s daughter and only child, like Alanis and I are to our parents. We know a thing or two about being sheltered. All the same, our fathers would never allow us to run wild around town like Iris does. And I don’t think she is _allowed_ to do so; my guess is that she simply has too much energy for them to handle, sometimes.

That rebelliousness will certainly come back to haunt her, if she isn’t careful. The Rinfolk would praise it, but the Maris must find it a pain, and perhaps a bad omen. If she gets herself hurt, she will be fantastically hurt—perhaps so hurt, she will never really recover. Such a thing would break her spirit. And that would be a tragic blessing.

Star suspected that supper usually didn’t take so long in this house; but it lasted well into the evening before she began helping her hosts clear dishes from the tables. Out of habit, she and Leah both moved to begin washing the dishes, as they had done every night since they had stood tall enough to do so. However, Imlay hurried them both from the kitchen before they could get started, heartily insisting that it could be left until morning on this occasion. Leah grimaced after the untidy sink, but didn’t bother trying to argue.

“I wonder how everyone at home is doing?” Alanis was saying as they rejoined the family. “They must know by now that we’ve arrived. Rowan will have known for hours, and will have let everyone know.”

“They are probably relieved to know it. I suppose that in recent years, after all the excitement, these important journeys must make your people nervous,” Seaborn suggested.

“Especially this year, when you come carrying such precious cargo,” Asha added, glancing meaningfully at Star. “If I know my small friend, the idea of letting his daughter travel so far from home has been stressful.”

To that, Marlie scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You have no idea.”

“I imagine that he’s having second thoughts about all his worrying,” Allun commented. “He and Zeel are probably making quite merry right about now, to have their home to themselves for the first time in 13 years. It’s what I would do.”

“You care far too much about their business.”

“It’s in my interest to care. You can never tell with those two. They say they’re done with adventures, but I can’t help wondering, sometimes.”

Star silently shook her head at him. If he should be caring about anyone’s business, it was supposed to be hers. Personally, she didn’t care what her parents were doing without her. The only interesting thing she supposed they were doing was enjoying an extra glass or two of honey mead every night, or perhaps swearing out loud more often, while she wasn’t around to see or hear.

“Star?”

There were so many people gathered that it took her a moment to find the one who had addressed her. She found that it was Perlain, looking at her intently.

“We understand you are well-versed in magic as your father, and that you were to perhaps explain a bit of it.”

At the mention of it, the other Maris all turned to watch her just as intently, all of their glassy eyes bright with interest.

“Yes, at last,” Iris agreed. “And perhaps you will now share the Book with us.”

“I’m afraid the Keeper has the Book right now,” Star answered. “I’ll have it back in a day or two, when he’s done with it. But I can answer any other question you have.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Seaborn said before his daughter could start whining. “In that case, tell us a bit of this magic of yours.”

“Oh… Let me think for a moment. I hardly know where to begin.”

“Begin at the beginning, then” Asha suggested.

Star nodded. The solution was as obvious as Asha had made it sound. “Wait a moment,” she said, turning to leave the group. “I need to fetch something from my bag, and I’ll be right back.”

When she returned, she was carrying one of the notebooks she had brought with her. She also found that someone had moved a chair to stand alone before the fireplace, before the whole family. Plainly, she was meant to sit there. She suspected that Alanis was responsible for this.

Surely, she thought as she sat down, this is what it really feels like to be Sheba.

“I’m going to start at the very beginning, as Asha said,” she explained, thumbing through the pages of her notebook. “And the very beginning is with the compass.”

She held the book up in front of her, for all to see the sketch she had found for them. It was a neatly drawn compass rose, its points labeled north, south, east, and west, with the four subpoints for north-east, north-west, south-east, and south-west similarly labeled. Beside each point was also the name of an element— _Air, Earth, Water, Fire_ —and a strange symbol that represented each one. The subpoints had elements and symbols of their own, much smaller and harder to see. On the opposite page were notes on the symbols and their meanings.

“I’ve drawn the compass many times, but this is the neatest one so far. Each compass point is aligned with its own element, and each element has its own meaning. All of them are connected, and flow through each other in a cycle. The compass shows us all the basic laws of magic in one place—how the elements move, how they react to one another, and how they combine to create.”

“I do not think I have seen these symbols before,” Perlain said slowly, carefully observing the careful sketch. “What are they?”

“A remnant of a long ago time, when it’s said that all people knew one language that united them. That language is lost, today; but the Titans have kept it alive, and use these symbols for many things. The compass is one of those things. Because it’s so basic, it’s one of the first things they are taught. There is depth and detail to it that takes many years to learn fully, as I have. But in this form, any beginner can see and understand. Here, have a better look.”

She handed the notebook to her hostess and watched with pride as the sketch was passed form hand to hand and admired.

“The elements combine at the cross-points,” Asha noticed.

“Those are the sub-elements: rock, ice, plant, and lightning. Two energies must combine to create them. But only when the two can flow through each other. Because they are across from each other, Earth and Air can never successfully combine, and neither can Water and Fire. Such combinations represent conflict, a clashing of opposing forces, which create nothing but destruction and chaos. This is why the four are so important. The four make a cycle of harmony; when broken, they can only destroy, or, at best, accomplish little.”

Perlain made on odd face. “Somehow, that idea feels familiar. As if I have seen this, or heard of it, somewhere before. I cannot think where, though.”

“It should feel familiar,” Star agreed, thrilled that he had stumbled over it so easily. “The concept is a big one; but it is the only reason why you returned from the Zebak lands so successfully, let alone alive.”

He pinned her with an astounded look, not understanding.

“There were four of you then, remember?” she explained, speaking slowly. “One of you representing each element, all with your own unique gift to offer. And so the four elements were united in harmony, and you were able to accomplish more together than you ever could have on your own.”

“Four quarters of a whole,” Allun commented thoughtfully. He had heard the explanation many times, and it never failed to amaze him. “Things always happen in fours around here, it seems. I had never thought of it before, but it explains everything.”

“I thought your parents and your aunt and uncle made a whole, as well,” Iris added. “But they are three people of Rin and one Zebak. It seems quite unbalanced to me.”

“That’s where elemental alignment comes in,” Star continued. “As with spirit animals, everyone is aligned with one of the elements, and so takes on certain characteristics that come with it. Papa is element Earth, and mum is element Fire, naturally; but Norriss is Air, and Shaaran is Water, and so together, they do make a whole. Of course, they had no idea when they were young, and chalked all their success up to dumb luck. In truth, it was all a part of destiny, and the magic that gives it shape and life.”

“What about before, on your father’s first adventure on the mountain?” Seaborn asked. “There were four then, but the whole fell apart.”

“That is true,” Star agreed. “Once the seven became four, they traveled much farther much faster, and accomplished much more. However, they were never a whole. Papa was Earth, and John was Fire, but there were _two_ Air elements, then,” she explained, pointing two fingers at her godparents.

“They were the two of us,” Marlie said slowly, obviously uncomfortable to be remembering the story. “We understand now, though, that Jiller is element Water, and would have made the four whole if she had gone in place of one of us. The journey would have been unkind to her, but perhaps the party would have stayed intact.”

“One person really does make all the difference,” Star concluded. “It’s often said so, and it is more true than we sometimes think.”

Marlie cleared her throat and shook her head, as if to shake the memories from her head. “Star, perhaps you will tell them of the Titans,” she suggested, expertly changing the subject. “Tell them of how it began. You tell the stories quite well.”

“Very well. If you are all done with my notebook, I need it back. Though I could tell these stories from memory, it helps when I have a guide.”

The notebook made its way back around the group and back into her hands. She flipped through the pages and found the story she was looking for.

“Now, I want you all to remember something as I read this tale,” she said seriously. “It seems impossible and completely fantastic, but it is true. It is the story of the first Earth Titan, how she came into her power, and how she united our people.”

All were silent, eyes attentively watching her, as she read the tale from her book.

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_The Bear Queen_

_Long ago, there stood a great mountain which was kept by the dragon called Finlair, son of Aldebaran, and lord of ancient, silent Earth. At the base of this mountain dwelt four tribes of human folk, which Finlair watched over with his whole heart. There dwelt a tribe a mighty warriors, a tribe of simple farmers, a tribe of quiet scholars, and a tribe of fearsome wild men._

_The four tribes were long given over to great battles and terrible wars, as each fought to claim the mountain as their own. The warriors fought with swords and spears. The farmers took up their hoes and ploughshares. The scholars fought with clever traps, having little strength or power of their own. The wild men went into battle armed only with their bare hands._

_For many centuries the fighting raged on, to the great dismay of the dragon. It was often said that he walked among the people in the guise of a human—an old mountain hermit who would venture down to them from the snowy summit, speaking of peace and unity. But the people were prideful, and refused to hear his gentle words. This brought terrible sadness to the dragon, and he soon gave up trying to soothe the people. He retreated to his lair, despairing for the people of his heart, and turned his eye from their bitter fighting._

_One day, deep in the forest that surrounded the mountain, a strange thing happened. A young mother black bear was walking through the trees with her new cubs, and she stumbled upon a curious sight. It was a toddling human girl-child, lost among the trees. It was unknown how she had come to be there. Whether she had been abandoned, or had lost her parents to the wars of her people can never be said, even to this day. However, because the bear was a young mother and had children of her own, she took the lost child into her mother’s heart. She took the child into her own den, and raised her alongside the two cubs, as a cub of her own._

_The child, called Girl of the Trees by mother bear, grew up in the forest, among the plants and animals. She spoke to mother bear and her two brother bears as if they spoke the same tongue. She learned to care for the animals of the forest: to bring their young into the world, to heal their pains, and to comfort their elderly in their dying. She learned the ways of the trees and flowers, how and when to tend them, and which ones were good for healing._

_Years went by. The toddler grew first into a sprightly girl and then slowly into a young maiden. Her hair grew long, wild, and black as night. Her eyes were full of sunlight, and green as the spring grass. Girl of the Trees came to know the land more closely and beautifully than any human before her, and brought great joy to all the creatures of her forest home. Sometimes, though, she would climb to the top of the highest trees and gaze upon the land of her true people with a heavy heart. Seeing their terrible wars from afar troubled her deeply, and she longed for a day when the fighting would cease. Then, perhaps, she might return to them. She wished to do something to change their hearts, but feared that she would never possess such power._

_One destined afternoon, she strolled the forest with one of her grown brother bears, through part of the territory he had claimed for himself. And through the trees, brother bear was enraged to discover that the tribes had gone to war once again, in a part of his own land. Finding the invasion an insult and a threat, he gave a mighty roar and charged through the trees at the intruders. Girl of the Trees was terrified, knowing well her brother would fall into the traps of the scholars, and be cut down by the swords and ploughshares of the warriors and farmers, and be ripped apart by the hands of the wild men,. She gave chase and called after him, begging him to hear her and stop his rampage. But he went on charging, roaring in rage; and she went on chasing him, calling him, even though she knew he was beyond hearing her._

_The four tribes all looked up in surprise from their fighting, to see a grown black bear charging at them. And even greater was their surprise when they saw a wild, beautiful maiden burst from the trees, calling the bear as if they spoke the same tongue. Before their eyes, the maiden ran to stand before the bear, begging in an animal language to be calm and to turn back. To their great amazement, the bear understood her, and they watched in amazement as the rage slowly faded from the bear’s eyes at the maiden’s command._

_The people began to cheer in wonder over the beautiful maiden, who had appeared so suddenly from the trees, and had the power to speak with the bears of the forest. The leaders of the four tribes came before her, for once united in joy over this unexpected gift, and asked her to tell them her name._

_And so the maiden called herself Milantis—which means “Girl of the Trees”, in the human tongue. The people were overjoyed at her appearance, and the magical powers she seemed to possess, and called her Bear Queen. The warriors brought her to sit in their place of honor, and the farmers brought her the finest of their harvest; the scholars dressed her in the robes of their highest, and the wild men pledged the loyal service of their best fighters to her. Girl of the Trees, now called Milantis, looked over her native people and let her heart be filled with joy to see them unified, at long last. Finally, they were at peace, and she rejoiced to be the cause of such happiness and celebration._

_But the happiness and celebration was not to last. The four leaders soon came before her and demanded to know which tribe she had come from, and to which she would lend her powers. They wished the wars to be won, and the true masters of the mountain to be decided once and for all. Each of the leaders pointed to his or her own offering, and each insisted that they had more than won her loyalty._

_Milantis was astounded and puzzled, because she did not know which tribe she had come from. She had come to bear traits of each one—the warriors’ strength, the farmers’ knowledge of the land, the scholars’ gentleness, and the untamed spirit of the wild men. Even if she had possess a way of knowing, the thought of taking any one side tore at her heart, for it belonged to all the tribes as much as the mountain did._

_The four leaders were far from satisfied with her answer, and demanded with harsh words and threats that she must make her decision. Milantis felt her heart break, and so fled from her people without looking back at their stubborn pride and greed. She did not know where her feet or her broken heart were taking her, but she ran, and ran—toward the mountain, where she would never again have to look upon the people who had disappointed her so._

_She fled past her confused brothers, not hearing them ask what troubled her. On she ran through the trees, not hearing them calling her to play in their shade. She ran even past mother bear, not hearing at all when she begged her to stop. On and on Milantis ran, until she came to the secret stair that led up the side of the mountain; even then, she did not stop running, but began to climb._

_She ran for a day and all through the night. Just before dawn, exhaustion and misery overcame her, and she fell to her face near a cave that seemed to breathe with fire. But Milantis did not notice, for the aching of her broken heart was unbearable. She lay on the rock, weeping her grief, on the verge of throwing all her hope away._

_“Girl, why are you weeping?” came a deep voice from nearby. Startled, Milantis looked up and saw an old man sitting upon a rock before her. His clothes were rough and worn from a life lived alone on the mountain. His hair was white as new snow, and his beard reached past his waist. His eyes burned with firry wisdom. And for all his years, he stood quite straight and tall, with great majesty._

_Milantis had not expected to meet another soul on the mountain, but was silently glad that someone had found her. No doubt, the elder had fled to the shelter of the mountain like she had, to escape the fighting below. Certain of this, she told him of her sad adventure._

_“If only I knew how to change their hearts, I would spare nothing,” she cried to the elder. “Not even my own heart. I would give anything for there to be peace in our land.”_

_And the elder, who was truly the dragon Finlair in his human guise, was pleased with her words. Never before had he seen such humility or selfless love in a human being. His dragon heart was deeply moved by hers, for it was like his own._

_“Come into the cave with me, and I will show you the answer,” he said, and the elder stepped into the cave which breathed fire. With a wild, renewed hope, Milantis rose and dried her eyes, and followed him._

_At first, she supposed that her weary eyes were deceiving her. There in the cave, the form of the mountain hermit had vanished. Instead, and ice-white dragon loomed before her, awaiting her with eyes that burned with the wisdom of the ages._

_Yet she felt no fear. She knew, somehow, that the dragon was the only true lord of the mountain, and that he was also the elder who had befriended her. And because she knew the ways of the land and its creatures, she knew that she could trust him. He led her deep, deep into the cave, which began to burn like the dragon’s fire, like the wisdom in his eyes._

_And here, he revealed his secret treasure. Deep within the cave, in the very center of the mountain, boiled a lake of liquid gold which no human eyes had ever fallen on._

_Before her eyes, the dragon plucked a single scale from his chest, right above his soft heart, groaning with pain as it was taken from his body. It was his smallest scale, yet it gleamed with power as great as his largest._

_Before her eyes, he took the small scale in his great talons and lowered it into the lake of gold. And when he brought it forth, the scale no longer gleamed like ice, but with the gold that had already hardened to coat and protect it._

_This token he presented to Milantis, full of his own power. It was only a tiny fragment, but it was enough to shake her very bones with its might._

_“I gift you with the truth and solidarity of ancient, silent Earth,” the dragon proclaimed. “Today, you burn with the power of my hallowed mother star. Today, you shall make your people one.”_

_Indeed, as Milantis took the talisman, she saw the truth, and the answer. With thanks and joy, she departed from the cave that was the mountain’s own heart. She returned to the base of the mountain, knowing full well what she had to do._

_Beyond the forest that was her home, she knew of a still and secret valley, and knew that it would suit her purpose well. She felt the power of the land singing into her blood and into her soul, as it filled her with strength and courage as she had never known. All around her, it seemed as though the creatures and the very trees bowed as she passed, in silent awe of the being she had become, and the talisman she now carried._

_There in the secret valley, she called the earth to life, and sang magic into the solid rock. Great trees sprang up at her touch, and empty fields filled with flowers and good fruits. From deep underground she summoned a great spring of crystal clear water. And from the mountain itself, she summoned a streaming river of liquid gold to flow down to a pool of stone. All the valley was bathed in the radiance of the golden river. In the light of the sun, and in the light of the moon, the world that Milantis crafted was illuminated in light._

_All through the night she crafted a new home for her people—one home to be shared by all. She finished her great work as the sun rose; high above her, the dragon Finlair roared in triumph. And his roar was a call to the people of his heart, to come forth and see what his Titan had made for them._

_Though they did not understand the call, the people of the four tribes ceased their fighting and followed it at once to where it led them. And there, they found a strange new place where once had been an empty valley. A place where pleasant trees grew, and yellow flowers covered the grass, and pools of clear water and liquid gold sparkled in the light of dawn._

_And standing tall among it all, waiting to welcome them, was the Bear Queen—Milantis, the first Titan of ancient, silent Earth._

_“I bid you welcome to our new home,” she said, no longer in the voice of a wild maiden, but in the grand voice of a queen. “From this day to the last, we will be one people in our new, golden valley. Never again will we fight over our land, but for it, together, as one. I curse the day our land is fought over once again. Should that terrible day come, I pray the mountain to crumble upon the offenders, to seal our home in silence until peace returns once more.”_

_This time, the four leaders did not dare question her. The warriors and farmers threw down their weapons at once. The scholars abandoned their crafting of traps. The wild men quite suddenly lost their wildness to the thought of home, where their hands were needed for creation._

_And so the people of Earth were united at last, under the power, care, and great love of their Titans. Their new home came to be known as the Valley of Gold, and its people came to prosper in wealth and wisdom. Ever since that time, they have tended their land and cared for the mountain which belongs to all people, and to the dragon. Never again did they go to war with themselves, as Milantis had decreed._

_And so it has remained, to this very day._

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	8. The Gleaming Pen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And today, the prophecy is fulfilled. ;)  
> This chapter highlights just how much Deltora Quest I have been reading lately. Iris keeps sounding suspiciously like Lindal of Broome, I think… 0.o

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_Chapter 8: The Gleaming Pen_

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After that first day of unpacking and settling down, the visiting Rinfolk quickly beat their days into a steady rhythm. They rose early, worked through the days, and returned to the inn or the homes of their hosts for a meal and well-earned rest. With each day that passed, more of their wares disappeared, replaced with traded goods.

For Star, it was very much the same. Instead of joining her family at the markets, she spent long days in the enormous library, as she had planned. The sheer volume of the collection was enough to occupy the first whole week. On that first day, as she had finally made her way to the building, she had been greeted at the door by a girl about her own age, dressed in blue from head to toe.

“I am Alianora of Pandellis, apprentice scholar and keeper of the books,” the girl had said formally. “Sir Perlain had informed us that you would be coming, and asked me to assist you during your stay with us.”

“Oh. I hadn’t been expecting an assistant,” Star had answered, not sure what else to say.

“Our library is quite extensive. He does not doubt you, but he fears that you may become lost. He has asked me to make your work as pleasant and easy as possible. Please, follow me.”

With that, Alianora had opened the doors and ushered Star inside. The first floor of the building was vast, and shelves of books towered to the ceiling. The few empty spaces between the shelves were occupied with long tables and benches, with neat stacks of loose paper and pots of ink spaced along them. The building smelled strongly of paper, leather, and the burning oil of the many lit lamps. To the apprentice scholar, it was home. To Star, it was staggering.

“Our books are all organized and coded for your convenience,” Alianora had explained, partially ignoring how overcome her guest was. “Histories, science, and softer studies are located in the left-hand wing; fictional works are located in the right. A catalogue of all our works can be found in the back of the library. You will find the catalogue arranged in alphabetical order, also for your convenience, with the title, author, and code for each work clearly labeled. If you encounter any problems, I am to remain nearby to answer your questions. Is there anything I may assist you with presently?”

“I think I’ll just browse for a while,” Star has answered absently, still taking in the number of books around her, wondering where she wanted to begin. Alianora had smiled understandingly.

“Very well, miss. If that is the case, I think you will find everything in order. Should you need me, I have books to replace in the right wing. Feel free to the paper and ink provided, as they are a courtesy. If you find yourself in need of anything, you now know where to find me.”

The two girls had nodded to one another, at an accord, and had started off in opposite directions. Alianora had gone to her work in the fiction section. Star had started off to find a hefty science text to pour over.

We don’t have nearly enough science books at home, she had thought, invigorated. The best sciences we have are all in my house, in papa’s study. And they all deal in magic. I long to see how the rest of humanity sees the world.

She had gone on to spend the rest of that week just pulling random books off shelves, devouring the knowledge within with an appetite she had never known she possessed. The provided ink was useful, as she quickly used up the supply she had brought with her; but she used her own notebooks, which were filling up with alarming speed. It dawned on her that perhaps she would have to buy new ones while she was in Maris, along with the pen of her prophecy.

On the second day, she had asked Alianora where she might go to purchase pens and blank books for writing. The girl had been very excited in her interest, and had informed her that the library frequently sold such things to its patrons. She had hurried Star to a storeroom near the catalogues, which was filled with all sorts of things for a writer. Empty books of many sizes, shapes, and colors lined its shelves. Drawers had opened to reveal rows of quill pens, calligraphy brushes, and styluses of compressed coal. Other shelves held inks of many colors, in vials, bottles, and jars. There were also dictionaries, translation guides, rulers, glue, and some tools that Star had never seen before.

She had chosen a thick notebook with purple leather binding, because she thought it prettiest; but she had noted that none of them were a good size for her final draft. She had also gone over the collection of pens with a critical eye, hoping that one might stand out from the rest. The wooden handles of the brushes were polished to a fine sheen, and the quills were all crafted from bright plumes, each one a work of art. But none of them felt right to her. None of them quite matched the idea of the gleaming pen from her prophecy.

“There is another shop nearby, just down the road from here, if you do not see what you are looking for,” Alianora had commented, seeing the vague disappointment on Star’s face. “We prefer to carry more traditional tools here. But other shops can sell you pens with metal nibs, such as the one I saw you using yesterday. You seem to be looking for something very specific.”

“I am. It has to be the _right_ pen. I just have to keep looking until I find it.”

“I… I have never used a pen like yours before,” Alianora had added shyly. “The scholars say it is too modern for us. Many people find our plumed quills to be old fashioned, though, and use the metal nibs more and more often. As an apprentice scholar, I have hardly been allowed to see one. Might I try using yours? Just for a moment?”

“Of course,” Star had agreed. She had opened her new notebook and taken her pen from her bag, handing it to her eager new friend. Looking thrilled to be breaking so many rules, Alianora had taken a vial of black ink from its shelf and cautiously dipped the nib inside.

“Not too far,” Star had warned. “Too much, and you’ll get blotches. I learned that the hard way.”

Smiling her thanks, Alianora had written her name on the first page of the notebook. The nib had made a slight scratching sound as it glided across the page. Alianora had been impressed and very pleased.

“Oh, see how smooth it writes. It feels as though it could fly right out of my hand. What a splendid device! And what a shame, that the scholars refuse to use them. They would not be pleased to see me doing this.”

Star had smiled in amusement. In the end, she had purchased the notebook, the ink vial that Alianora had already opened, an unopened vial of red ink, and a jar of black to refill her own vials from. Also, even though it had been a birthday present, she had left the pen to Alianora, to use in her free time. Star had another one, after all. And she couldn’t see how she could refuse the girl something that brought her so much joy.

This had been the most excitement of the first week. Now it was the second week, and Star was returning to the library with a treasure in her bag. She had gone back to the Cavern of the Crystal that morning, where the Keeper had been waiting to return the Book, at last.

“It is a fine work, as it is,” he had declared. “I thoroughly enjoyed it, Star. All the same, you will notice corrections of my own here and there—spelling errors, mostly, though your family seems to have caught most of them already. I am glad that you leave generous margins, child, for I made more use of them than is perhaps acceptable. I hope you enjoy my commentaries.”

Star had no doubt that she would. Having the Book back was so exciting to her. Now she could start interviewing her father’s friends, as she had planned. Having the Keeper’s commentary was a terrific starting point. She wondered if it was too soon to let Alianora glance over it.

I have so many books checked out already, and I haven’t even finished one yet, she thoughts. I’ll look over what the Keeper has left me later, when I’m at home, and the others can have a look. Then I will share with Alianora, and she can share it with the scholars. Perhaps, if they deem it worthy enough, one of them will offer to help me make the copies of the final draft.

Walking into the library had become a less grand affair since that first day; Star no longer felt like a small fish in a sea of books, but like a welcomed guest. Her arrival attracted little attention, say from Alianora, who was waiting just inside to meet her as usual.

“Should you need anything, you know where to find me,” the girl greeted, as she had done every morning. Star nodded in reply and continued to her usual table. Alianora had quickly found that Star needed little assistance. Star had yet to search for anything specific, and was content to simply wander the shelves, pulling out any book that struck her fancy. The pile of books she had amassed was growing steadily. The idea that she might have to stop and actually finish one of them had begun to prick at the back of her mind.

And so, once she was situated with her ink and notebooks arranged as she liked them, Star selected the tome from the top of her stack and began pouring through it, determined to finish it that afternoon. It was a guide on the birds of the northern mountains, a region which Star had only heard of in Traveler tales, and hoped she would visit one day. For some reason, she had thought it strange that the Maris library would have books on all animals, all plants, and all peoples of their world—she had found detailed lists of herbs from the plains, and beasts from her own home, alongside guides to the fish of the local sea.

Long ago, it might have suited the Maris to fill their library exclusively with their personal experience. They had been separated from others, locked in their bitter clan wars, like the people of Earth had been. But then, the Maris had been gifted with a Titan of their own—Orin the Wise, the first Keeper of the Crystal. He had brought unity to his people, and they had prospered. Once they had begun to deal with the other peoples of the world, this prosperity had grown tenfold. While they had the strength and skill to offer it, they were glad to record the knowledge of their brothers and sisters alongside their own.

And now the library had to be as big as it was. It was the only building in the world that could house the knowledge, experience, and wisdom of three different peoples. Perhaps, Star liked to hope, it had once contained the knowledge of a fourth…

She had searched on her own, but had found no evidence that any Zebak history had ever been kept in the library. If there ever had been, it would have been thousands of years ago. And, Star supposed, it all would have been destroyed by now, and any scholar who might have known of it would deny it had ever happened.

She could feel a gaping void there, an obvious and depressing lack of presence where she felt the knowledge of the Zebak ought to be. For self-defense, if for nothing else. An understanding of their part of the world and their customs would be most useful if they ever tried to invade again. But they, too, had separated themselves from the rest of the world, and now very little was really known of them. It was merely assumed, now, that they were a race of vicious, cunning warriors and monsters, who wanted nothing more than to destroy the western world for their own selfish gain.

Never assume anything, Star remembered the Keeper saying. It makes an ass of you and me, both. All that we know of our ancient enemy is based on assumptions. And that bothers me as much as I know it bothers my father, and the other Titans. Much of what we _think_ we know may turn out to be quite wrong. Norriss and Shaaran certainly seem to think so...

Star hadn’t thought very hard about her family in nearly a week, because she had been so absorbed in her work. But thinking of her aunt and uncle suddenly turned her thoughts back to the west, toward Rin. She suddenly wondered how everyone was getting along. She wondered how the village was faring, missing its best baker and cleverest weaver. She wondered how John was doing, without the usual extra pair of hands to help him. She hoped her aunt and uncle were feeling better, by now.

Most of all, she hoped her father was feeling less anxious, and that he was enjoying himself.

That last hope may be a long shot, she told herself. She shook her head, and returned to her book.

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Another week went by in this way. Star found herself almost in a fever, because only two weeks of her stay in Maris remained, and she felt that she was nowhere near enough time to do everything she had planned to. There were too many books left unread. Too few notes taken to bring home. Too many references she still wished to find. And, despite several trips to every shop and market stall she heard of, she still hadn’t found the pen she was looking for. She was sure that she had looked over every pen that Maris had to offer, including a few truly beautiful works of art. And she had turned them all down with a heavy heart.

One had been crafted from silver, and the artist—a man of Umbray, of course—had proudly insisted that it was certainly meant for her. But the piece was expensive, and Star was unable to afford it; and she could feel in her heart, though it flashed brilliantly in the light, it was not meant for her, after all.

One afternoon, she was startled from her reading by the library doors banging open suddenly, disturbing all the other patrons around her. Everyone looked up in puzzled annoyance, peering toward the entrance way, trying to see who had disturbed them.

None of them had to wonder for very long. In a few moments, Forley and Alanis both appeared, striding determinedly past the bookshelves, obviously looking for Star. Alianora was struggling to keep up with them, looking alarmed.

Slightly embarrassed, Star tried to hide behind her book, and hoped they wouldn’t notice her.

I’ll wait until they leave. Then I’ll catch up with them and see what they want, she decided.

Of course, she stood out far too much to be missed so easily. She was the only patron in the library who wasn’t Maris. Her cousins spotted her right away, and she heard their heavy footsteps coming closer and closer.

“There you are, small Star,” Forley said loudly. “We’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Shhh!” She hissed back, holding a finger to her lips, along with everyone else at the long table. Even Alianora had hushed him, out of instinct. Her young face was thunderous.

“We’re in a library, dumb,” Star whispered back, also angry. “Keep your voice down.”

“Oh! Sorry,” he said in a lower, sheepish voice. She couldn’t remember the last time he had been so quiet.

Also annoyed with him, Alanis shoved her way past him and greeted Star with a smile. “Come outside with us,” she whispered. “We wanted to discuss something with you. Something… fun.”

“I’m busy,” Star whispered back, exasperated, gesturing at her open book.

“Your books will be here tomorrow. Just come with us. Hear us out, at least.”

Star sighed and rolled her eyes. She marked her page with a scrap of paper, and hurried to follow her cousins. She could feel the stares of the other patrons boring into her back as she walked away. She shrugged apologetically to Alianora, who shrugged back in answer.

The sooner I get them out of here, the better, she thought. This is so embarrassing…

When the three of them were outside, Forley stretched his arms wide and yawned boredly.

“That much quiet was exhausting,” he commented. “I don’t understand how you tolerate it.”

“Never mind that,” Star answered crossly, shoving her elbow into his side. “Really, I’m very busy. What do you want?”

Alanis crossed her arms and sighed. “I don’t blame you for being mad at him, but you don’t have to take it out on me, too. I warned him to keep his voice down, but he never listens to reason. But back to the point. We have the afternoon to ourselves, and have planned a short trip to the cliffs, as we had spoken of a while back. We had hoped that perhaps you would come with us.”

“Iris is already waiting at the house for us to return with you,” Forley added. “She’s overly excited, as usual. Our adventure last year ended in disaster, and we have been looking forward to trying again. And this time, we’ll have a real warrior to save the day. You should abandon your studies, just for this one afternoon, and come with us.”

Star was interested at once, but she tried hard to resist it. “I remember you mentioning it before we left home. I also remember Leah pointing out that none of our parents would ever stand for it.”

“Indeed. That’s why we haven’t told them of it,” he answered, as if it were obvious. “As far as they know, we are going for a walk on the far side of the beach to search for shells, as we often do. Not even Leah is aware of it. If she were, she would tattle on us in an instant.”

“So, as you can see, it’s a grand secret,” Alanis concluded with a grin. “Oh, Star, we insist that you come with us. An opportunity like this doesn’t come along every day, after all.”

They were so excited about their impending journey, and their excitement was infectious. Star felt it creep into her heart, tugging impatiently, and she suddenly felt a deep longing for an adventure. Something outrageously out of the ordinary to shake up the routine she had established. Something dangerous, against the rules—even her godparent’s rules—that would scare her whole family half to death. She had never done anything so dangerous, or broken so many rules so blatantly. At least, not on purpose.

She grinned back at them. “Sounds like fun. Let me get my bag, and I’ll be right back.”

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An hour and a half later, a party of four was trekking determinedly through the pine forest that sparsely climbed the side of the cliff. Iris was in the lead, practically bounding up the path that wound through the trees. Forley and Star trotted behind her, filled with energy and anticipation. Alanis came last, stalking casually behind them, wondering silently at their madness, as well as her own.

“Star,” she called, “remember when you wrote the third adventure? You wrote something about while my brother and the others sat on the island puzzling through another riddle, my father would have been halfway up this cliff side.”

“I remember it well,” Star answered over her shoulder, wondering why she would bring up something so specific.

“That passage just now popped into my head,” Alanis called back. “I don’t know why, exactly, but that’s stuck with me ever since I read it. It sounds just like him. And it just dawned on me that here I am, halfway up this cliff side. Isn’t it funny? Or perhaps prophetic?”

Star tossed a pleased smile at her cousin. She had always been particularly proud of those words, even though they had come from her own father’s brain instead of hers. He had said that he remembered thinking that thought very distinctly, and that it had vaguely frustrated him in the moment. In any case, it described her grandfather perfectly. And it described his daughter just as well.

Near the top of the cliff, the forest began to thin out, and the trail that Iris was following grew fainter. Clearly, few Maris ever ventured this far.

“This forest is an excellent source of timber,” Iris explained idly, keeping her voice down. “Norriss and Bronden are always overly excited about it and are willing to pay an outrageous amount of money for the lumber, though I can never hope to understand it. We only harvest the trees on the lower part of the cliff side, when we can. The only people who ever come this far are curious children, like me.”

“Judging from the trail, there are few of you,” Alanis commented dryly.

“Mother and father have been warning from babyhood not to climb the cliff. They always threaten me with severe beating, if they ever catch me doing so. Therefore, I naturally climb as far as I can, whenever I find the time. I keep the trail well beaten, believe me.”

“It’s a wonder she still has any feeling in her backside,” Forley added cheekily. “She may be proud and boastful, but she has been caught many times. Oh, and to say nothing of what happened last year. I was sure that all our parents would kill us both.”

“It would have served you both right,” Alanis answered, raising her voice to be heard from the back of the line. “You nearly met your ends up here.”

Iris spun around and hushed Alanis sharply. “Keep your voice down,” she hissed, lowering her voice almost to a whisper. “We are now very close to the fighter’s nesting grounds. If they hear us, they will attack. If Forley had not ignored my warnings last year, we never would have ended up in that mess.”

Forley shrugged unapologetically, and continued to follow her without a word.

Star sidled up beside him and poked his shoulder. “Trading one silence for another, are we?” she whispered.

He gave her an unimpressed look, then turned his focus back on the trail. He was also proud and boastful, and normally very loud; but it seemed that he could muster a little restraint for this trip. Clearly, he had learned his lesson, and had no wish to repeat last year’s misadventure. 

The forest ended in a broad plateau of gray rock and dry, scraggly grass. Far ahead, they could see where the plateau narrowed to a jagged point, jutting out into the sea like a spear. All they could see beyond that was an expanse of gray sky, and they could hear the wind whistling sharply across the rocks.

Staying hidden in the trees, they scanned the rocks for a tell-tale flash of green, and strained to listen for angry screeching. But all seemed peaceful. Suddenly, Iris made a signal and pointed into the jumbled rocks.

“Look,” she whispered. “There. That is one of the nests.”

They all looked where she was pointing, and were astonished to see that one of the rocks had begun to shift on its own. The rock wasn’t a rock at all. It was an enormous, silvery gray bird with a curved orange beak. Its cold black eyes darted around the plateau, obviously aware that something was lurking nearby.

“That is one of the females,” Iris explained, almost too softly to be heard. “See how she blends in with the rocks? She is perfectly hidden, while she sits on the eggs in the nest. She will rise and defend her babies, if she feels threatened, but she will probably remain where she is. She is only one of three or four that I know nest here. Of course, the other females are also hidden, and so I cannot see where they are, exactly.”

“That is good and well for them,” Alanis whispered back, never taking her eyes from the bird they had found. “But what of the males?”

“There are a great many queens in the area, but only a few kings. They are highly territorial, and will defend their own nesting grounds with their lives. The king of this nest is probably fishing, to bring food for his queens and their young. The babies hatch about this time every year, and I have seen them gulp down whole catches in seconds. The kings have to make many fishing trips every hour to keep their families fed.”

“If he were here, we probably would have seen him by now,” Forley added. “The males are all bright green, and impossible to miss. He is probably fishing right now. In which case, he will return in all his glory shortly.”

“In which case, we should hope he will be too busy tending to his brood to notice us,” Iris concluded. “The fighters are ferocious on a normal day; but if they feel that their queens or their babies are being intruded upon, they will lash out at anything. And other kings will do anything to invade and conquer their neighbor’s territories at this time of year. The nests are so often left unguarded, it is easy. And then there will be a fight.”

Alanis turned a cold glare on Iris. “You mean to tell me, you’ve hauled us all the way up here to spy on the fighters when they’re most easily agitated? It’s no wonder you were almost killed before! Now it _really_ would have served you right!”

“Alanis, please, keep your voice down!” Star insisted, tugging on the sleeve of her jacket. “The king is coming back. I can see him.”

Indeed, a flash of green was descending into their view, to settle among the rocks with the air of a ruler. All around the plateau, the other hidden females were raising their heads. Their feathers began to ruffle as they puffed themselves up, suddenly twice as big as they were before. They began squawking sharply to one another across the rocks, and at the king, in what sounded to Star like a warning.

A shadow fell over Iris’ face.

“This is one of the kings,” she breathed, “but he is not _the_ king. He is an intruder, like I had said. Now the queens agree that they are being threatened, and that their babies are in danger. If their king does not return soon, they will fight him, themselves.”

“But why?” Alanis asked. “Why should they be in danger, just because this stranger has entered their nesting grounds?”

Iris suddenly looked very sad. “If this king conquers the nest, he will kill all the young of his defeated neighbor, so that he can mate with the queens himself. That is why the kings are so vicious with one another, this time of year. They have much to lose.”

Alanis and Star were both slightly horrified. The creatures of their own place were gentle and peaceful, and would never turn on each other so greedily, or take advantage of each other’s weakness. And the thought of the hatchling fighters being slaughtered by a vengeful conqueror made their skin crawl unpleasantly. It reminded them distinctly of a darker time long ago, when their own people had been trapped just as mercilessly. They hoped at the same time that the king of this nest would return quickly.

Forley was rolling his eyes. “And to think,” he said. “If our king isn’t fishing for his family, he is off somewhere, trying to do the same thing to this guy. All of the fighters lose the game—especially the queens and their babies. It’s all so unfair.”

“It is nature,” Iris said simply. “I have watched these birds for many years, and it is always the same story. It is what they do. It is how they have always lived. It is how their parents lived, and how their babies will live when they are grown. They are not people, and do not know what it is to change. If nothing else, they can provide us with a warning. We can watch them, and remember how much better it is for us to live in peace, than to wage endless war.”

As if in answer, a furious screech sounded high above them, and a shadow fell over the rocks. In a flurry of wind and flying green feathers, the real king of the nest shot down out of the sky, flashing talons aiming for the intruder. The sound that rose from the rocks was deafening—the two kings, screeching curses at one another; the queens, by turns relieved and terrified, squawking encouragements to their mate; the shrill, confused cheeping of the hatchlings, safe under the ruffled feathers of their mothers.

The four friends watched in fearful fascination from the pine trees, as the two kings hovered in the air above the rocks, jabbing with their beaks, their mighty talons reaching for one another. The king of this nest was larger than the intruder, his feathers a deeper, almost emerald green. Clearly, he was much older and more experienced than his smaller, lighter-colored contender. But the younger king was faster in his smallness, and more energetic and pugnacious in his youth. He easily outmaneuvered the king several times; more than once, the king just barely escaped the jabbing of its sharp beak.

Star watched in silence for long minutes, as the battle raged on, and the birds went on shrieking. Finally, she could stand the suspense no longer. She glanced down, looking for something to throw. She grabbed a pinecone from the ground and leapt from behind her tree, ignoring her friends’ gasp of surprise and terror. She took aim and threw the pinecone as hard as she could, hoping that the younger king would remain where he was long enough to her effort to be worthwhile.

The pinecone hit its mark soundly. It smacked the smaller bird square in the face, and it shrieked in surprise and pain. Dazed, it was helpless as the king razed talons across its chest and face. Blood spattered the rocks, and the queens all seemed to cheer in triumph. Seeing that it was clearly outmatched, the smaller king awkwardly wheeled around and flew off clumsily into the sky.

Satisfied that its nest was no longer threatened, the king settled on the ground and surveyed his small kingdom. His queens were trilling in relief, and the hatchlings were quieting down. It stopped and stood as still as a menacing statue, as all at once, its eyes settled on Star.

With her red dress and dark hair tangling in the wind, she was impossible to miss as the deep green king was. They matched each other in height; but he had the obvious advantage of his beak and talons, and the only weapon she had was a knife in her bag, which seemed pitiful by comparison. She was paralyzed with surprise, as were her friends, still hiding in the trees.

Star and the king regarded each other for a long, tense moment. He was not a tame creature, and would be impossible to approach or reason with. Even though she was the one who had turned the battle in his favor, he would treat her as he treated any other intruder. She was trespassing in his kingdom, and her presence would not be tolerated. Star felt the impulse to run screaming in her mind, but her legs were stiff, and she couldn’t take her eyes from the fighter.

Like a lightning bolt, the fighter king launched himself at her with another furious battle cry. At last, Star felt enough panic to break away and run. Alanis, Forley, and Iris were also running, crying out in alarm, but all that she was really aware of was her own fear, her own need to get away, and the king’s vicious screeching as he glided after them through the thin forest. If only they could make it further down the cliff, where the forest was thicker, he would be unable to follow them. If only…

But he was so swift. Would they make it to shelter in time?

Star felt another wave of panic, as the king’s shadow fell over them. He was right on top of them now. All he had to do was plunge down, catch her in his talons, and swoop her up into the air. To rip her to shreds, or dash her against the rocks, or let her fall helplessly into the churning sea far below, or whatever other punishment his raging animal mind decided was best. She was dimly aware of emerald feathers raining down around her, brushing her arms and face, but mostly she just felt the panic. It gave her a burst of desperate speed, just enough to outrun the fighter, and plunge at last into the first trees of the thicker forest.

Her friends were all right beside her, sped by a similar panic. The shadow was left behind, and an angry, defeated scream sounded behind them. The king had been unable to follow them, where the trees stood so close together. They were safe, but by no means did they stop running. Only when they had nearly reached the bottom of the cliff did they stop to catch their breaths.

“That was a near thing,” Alanis rasped between deep gulps of air. “You are absolutely unbelievable, Star! What on earth were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” she apologized. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be! You were nearly killed—we all were! That thing would have eaten you for supper, and you know it! I might have expected such a thing from Forley, but from _you_? Unbelievable!”

“Well, how do you like that?” Forley laughed. “For once, something isn’t my fault. My parents will be pleased to hear it.”

“Are you mad?” Iris demanded. “If you are wise, you will make sure that they never hear it. Imagine what they will do to us, not only for making the trip again, but for bringing Star with us. Oh, perhaps it was not the best idea, after all…”

“Whatever the three of you think, I had a great time,” he said cheerily. “And it seems that Star has brought a nice souvenir back with her.”

He reached out and plucked something from Star’s tangled hair. In his hand, he held an emerald-colored plume. It was nearly as long as his arm, and still gleaming with oil from the fighter king’s body. They all remembered at the same time how many feathers the king had shed as he had overtaken them, how they had fallen like rain. Even now, their skin and clothes were all streaked lightly with the same oil, where other feathers had brushed them.

Smiling, Forley handed the plume to Star. “We can disguise how you really came upon this, quite easily,” he said. “We will wait for the oil to dry, and then soak it briefly in the surf. We will tell our parents that you found it washed up in the tide. As for the stains on our clothes, they seem to be growing fainter as they dry. They will be nearly invisible by the time we get back to the house. No one will be the wiser.”

“The Keeper is almost certainly aware of this,” Iris commented warily. “Hopefully, he will not tell Perlain, who would surely tell his friends. If he can somehow hear us—and I hope that he can—I pray that he keeps this knowledge to himself. It would be a pity to have escaped so narrowly, only for our parents to wring our necks.”

Alanis was still angry, especially now that her companions were being so lighthearted about the whole mess. Her anger was obvious; but true to her nature, she showed it by maintaining silence, and keeping her face as blank as possible.

Meanwhile, Star gazed down at the plume in her hand. The oil on it was still very fresh, and had a silken sheen. Even though the day was cloudy and the sun was well hidden, the plume was gleaming.

_A gleaming pen…_

The thought pierced her mind like a dart. She smiled down at the feather, and she felt a strange connection with it. The plume could be easily crafted into a very beautiful pen. The quill was hollow, but quite sturdy and strong, and would last for many years to come. And even when the oil did dry and its sheen was long gone, she would never forget the way it looked right now. It was perfect, and beautiful. To her, it always would be.

This is it, she thought, feeling fully satisfied, as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders. This is the gleaming pen for my writer’s hand. With this plume, I will write the final draft.

With this plume, I will shape our changing land.

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	9. Autumn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, up to this point, it has all been exposition and rising action. Today, we hit the climax—in all its horrific glory. Welcome to the next 4 books of your life.  
> I’m not going to lie, 5,000 of these 7,000 words is filler that I made up to stall for time. I was seriously not looking forward to writing this…… :(  
> But it certainly catches up on what Zeel and Annad have been up to in the last 18 years, so don’t complain.

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_Chapter 9: Autumn_

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Rin hadn’t been so quiet in nearly 20 years, as it was in the month that the trading party was gone. With so many large, loud personalities missing from the village, it was like a hush had fallen over the valley. The people almost didn’t know what to do with themselves.

Rowan hadn’t been sure what to do with himself, either. Somehow, the quiet felt like the calm before a storm. Something unexpected was about to happen. He had sensed it as soon as he had heard his daughter’s last prophecy. Which was frustrating, because the sigil hadn’t mentioned anything about change to him recently; it had only revealed its secret when Star had asked it.

That boded poorly for her, in his mind. It wasn’t as if he had expected destiny to forget about her but… He had always hoped that destiny wouldn’t place her center stage, or hunt her down, as it had hunted him.

His wife, mother, and remaining sister had all shaken their heads at his anxiety, told him to lighten up, and had gone about their own usual business, firmly suggesting that he do the same. It would give him something productive to focus on, to take his mind off fears that were probably pointless.

Going about his usual business had seemed nearly impossible, at first. Almost all of his business included Star in some way. For the first few hours, he had felt a little lost. Then, that evening, Zeel had pulled their nicest cups from a cabinet and filled them with her homemade honey mead.

“Cheer up, for the love of all things,” she had insisted, shoving a cup into his hand. “You could kill someone with that frown.”

She had filled the cups suspiciously full, far more so than usual. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you trying to drug me?”

“If by ‘drug’, you mean ‘force a smile out of’, then yes, that is exactly what I’m doing,” she answered tartly. “Again, _please_ cheer up. Just imagine—we have the house all to ourselves for the next month. We can do whatever we wish, without fear of anyone’s children getting under our feet. Think of the possibilities!”

“What did you have in mind, exactly?”

“I have no idea yet. We shall decide as we go along, for we have all the time in the world to do so. It’s almost refreshing, not having a plan. It’s been a long time since I haven’t had each and every day planned out.”

Rowan had wondered briefly about her enthusiasm, and quickly understood. The last time she had been without a plan, they had been climbing the mountain, and the world was threatened with an eternal winter. The unknown had been dangerous and frustrating, then. This time, it was different. This time, having no plan was less a sentence than a liberation. It wasn’t just that anything could happen—it was that _they_ could _make_ anything happen.

And he had to agree, that was an exciting idea.

“Well then,” he had said, raising his cup, “I look forward to deciding along the way with you.”

She had smiled back, raising her own cup in answer. “To adventures,” she said.

“To plans,” he had added, as they clinked the cups together.

“And to throwing them away,” she had concluded.

And so had begun a month of freedom and lack of fore planning in their house. Many things had changed temporarily in their home. Dishes had started piling up over days, either until the sink was overflowing or there were no more plates or spoons to eat with, and one of them was forced to wash them.

Their supply of mead, which normally lasted a month or more, disappeared in the first week. By that point, they had spoiled themselves; Zeel had decided that making more was her most important priority.

“It takes a week to brew properly, though, so we shall have to buy some in the meantime,” she had said, very disappointed. “What a shame. I don’t care for anyone else’s nearly as much as I care for mine. But I’m sure _something_ will do, until my own brew is ready.”

Rowan had also been disappointed. It was widely agreed that his wife made the best mead in the village. It was an age-old Traveler recipe—a wedding present from her adopted father—and she had sworn to keep it a secret. The brew was sweet, deceptively smooth, and very powerful. When he wasn’t drinking it, himself, he prescribed it as medicine. It was strong enough to numb pain and cleanse wounds, and was also good for easing aches in the head and stomach.

They typically used it up slowly, and so a new batch was only made once every few months. When a new one was needed, Zeel usually doubled or even tripled the recipe, and sold it at the market. It was never surprising if she sold out within an hour, because her product was so coveted. Even the few people who despised her bought her mead religiously, hoping that if they tasted it enough, they could decode the secret recipe and make it for themselves. So far, their efforts had been fruitless.

Zeel was very proud that she could offer this to her husband’s people. She drew a strong identity from honey, as all Travelers did. Honey was an amazing substance—it never spoiled, could be made from any flower, and had a myriad of uses. It was good to eat, on bread or cake, or in tea. It had antiseptic qualities, and the Travelers often used it to dress cuts and scrapes. It was easily added to soap, and helped keep hair and skin soft and smooth. She used honey for nearly everything, and it was frequently said that she spent more on the glorious golden liquid than on any other item in her home.

So far, Rowan hadn’t found a reason to complain about this, and so he didn’t. Not even when his neighbors commented that it seemed odd. Of course it seemed odd to them, he frequently thought. It wasn’t how they had been raised, or how they lived. At any rate, he also appreciated how useful and wonderful honey was, though for an admittedly different reason. Because his dearest friend practically bathed in the stuff, she always smelled just like it. Even without honey-laden soap perfuming her hair and skin, he had always thought that she smelled just as sweet. It was part of who she was to him. In his mind, she had always smelled like fresh honey, warm sunshine, and sweet freedom.

It was common knowledge that they often ventured a short distance into the hills on pleasant evenings, and this continued with regularity. There were healing herbs that grew beyond the village which Rowan needed for his work, and some of them only ripened or blossomed in the damp and cool of the night; and Zeel usually went with him, to assist him and keep him company. They were normally never gone for very long, because they hated to leave their daughter alone. With her gone, however, it was easy to lose track of the time. There was nowhere in particular they needed to be. There were more and more nights when they simply walked for pleasure, wandering and talking into the late hours of the night, even lying in the grass and gazing at the brilliant heavens, as they had rarely been able to before.

Waking on time in the mornings following those nights was a pain, but well worth it.

They quickly began to wonder why they hadn’t been letting Star go on these trips for years.

He had also spent an alarmingly considerable amount of time at the carpentry, looking after his sick friends. He had been optimistic before the trading party had left—after being ill for weeks, Shaaran had finally been recovering nicely from her cold. Then, all at once, her brother had caught her cold, and Bronden had caught it from him, after resisting it for nearly a month. They had all been optimistic about that, too; the two furniture makers were certain that their colds would pass in a day or two, in time to leave with the others.

That had not happened. When the trading party had left two days later, Norriss and Bronden were even worse, somehow. Again, they hadn’t worried about it. They had insisted that would bounce back quickly, and catch up when they recovered. Surely, they had said, they were strong and healthy enough to shake off the cold after another day of bed rest.

That hadn’t happened either, in spite of everything Rowan had done to heal them. The sickness had clung to them with an iron grip, no matter what he had done. They had both lain in bed for a week, racked with a nasty cough, runny noses, and a mild fever. There had been no possible way for them to make up for the time they had lost.

Finally, as suddenly as it had come over them, they had recovered. The fever had broken, and their coughing had eased. Over a night, it was like all sickness had vanished entirely from the carpentry. All three of them had jumped out of bed that following morning, healthy as horses, and deeply peeved to have missed going to the coast.

“I haven’t been so ill since I was a small child,” Bronden had commented, unusually thoughtful in her anger. “And I have rarely been ill at all since then. It all comes from being healthy and strong. This has been a strange thing… I sincerely hope that it doesn’t happen again.”

True to her practical nature, she chose not to dwell on it, and moved on with life. It was over now; and even though she had been unable to go on the trading trip, she was looking on the bright side. There was still plenty of work to be done around the carpentry, which wouldn’t have to be put off for a month. She had pounced on the work with all her might, glad to have something productive to do.

All the same, Rowan could tell that his own thoughts were nagging at the back of her mind. The whole episode had been very strange in every way. It may not have been obvious from a distance, but there had been something almost supernatural about it.

Such an illness is easy enough to heal, he kept thinking to himself. I’ve cured it many times in the past, in only a few hours. And this bug has been making its rounds, lately; I’m sure that every family in the village has been stricken with it over the last few months. But the most severe cases lasted less than a week. Even the youngest, weakest of our children recovered in a few days, without the help of earthen magic.

So why did it attack here so suddenly? And why did it refuse to go away, in spite of all the magic I threw at it? There is only one answer for it, I fear. It was no mere cold that had gripped my friends. It was the hand of Fate, itself. I’m sure of it.

Why Fate would chose to clutch his friends so tightly, now of all times, was a terrifying mystery to him. Going on this year’s trip to the coast had meant much to them, and it had meant much to him as well. Three extra pairs of eyes on his young daughter would have brought him great comfort. Especially when they belonged to people with so much sense.

Allun and Marlie meant well, and they loved Star with all their hearts; but they had serious work to do, and couldn’t be everywhere at all times. And he didn’t entirely trust Allun not to encourage her more adventurous side. Shaaran and Norriss, on the other hand, would have hardly let Star out of their sight. The girl would have been kept on a short leash if they had been with her. She would have been frustrated; but at least her father could have trusted that she wasn’t getting herself in any trouble.

He didn’t expect that she would deliberately go looking for trouble, of course, and she had promised that the bulk of her adventures would only go as far as the books in the library allowed. But, Maris was a large town, and Star was a young girl with a short temper and little patience. There was plenty of trouble she could stumble into while no one was watching her, and it made him uneasy.

At any rate, all the news he received from the coast was good, at worst uninteresting. The Keeper checked in with him nearly every day with a report on the trading party’s work. He also told him everything that Star was up to, and assured him that the girl was behaving herself perfectly.

_Her prophecy has been fulfilled,_ he had reported one day, his voice whispering into Rowan’s mind like rolling waves, as it always had. _She has found her gleaming pen, at last. It seems that a fresh fighter’s quill washed up in the tide, where she found it, picked it up, and carried it back with her. She has crafted a new pen from it, and is using it even now. It is just like old times, my friend. Ah, we might have known that it was as simple as it seemed._

Good old Doss, Rowan had thought when their connection had broken. He wants me to stop worrying, as he knows I do. Like me, he wants to believe that her prophecy was less than we both know it is. We had prayed that the solution would be simple, and here it is. But he can’t fool me, and he knows it well. There’s something he isn’t telling me about this gleaming pen…

Oh, I shall think on it later. The Titan of Water can keep a secret as well the Titan of Earth; he is called _Keeper_ , after all. The important thing is that the prophecy is fulfilled, and behind us for the time being. I will count that as a success, and leave it at that.

For now…

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Another couple of weeks had passed in this way, and life had marched on as it was. The valley had changed remarkably in that month. The leaves on every tree were all brilliant gold, deep scarlet, and rich brown. The air was growing chillier and chillier by the day. Another impressive harvest was being brought in from the fields, and the storehouse was filling with incredible speed. There was even talk of enlarging the building when spring came again, because this year it was officially too small to hold the whole harvest.

Many people saw autumn as a sort of ending, a fever of preparations before the inevitable end that winter was. The seasons were symbolic of life, in that way—birth in the springtime, life in the summertime, preparations in autumn, and death in winter. And then springtime would come again, and the cycle would repeat itself. Just as people did.

Rowan could understand that; but the busyness that always came with the changing leaves filled him with energy. There was life and beauty to be seen in all the seasons. And autumn had always held a special importance in his heart. His birthday was in the middle of autumn. The leaves had only begun to change, when he had been swept off into his first adventure, and again on his first trip to Maris. Watching his wife carry their child through the fall had been like bringing in a harvest of their very own.

There were a lot of beginnings to celebrate every autumn, and the season that followed held no fear for him, either. Since he had become the Titan, the cold of winter had come to feel less like a death and more like a period of rest. It was a time to gather strength for the coming year, to peacefully enjoy what had taken all the seasons before to prepare. Especially now, when winter was so blissfully short. To him, winter was now a time to be savored.

He had a feeling that it would be a good winter, too. He couldn’t wait to spend those months studying the notes that Star would bring back from the coast. He looked forward to continuing her training; she seemed ready for a more advanced level of work with the sigil. He also looked forward to shorter days and longer nights—more time for blessed sleep, when he could best recover his magical strength. He would follow the bukshah to the mountain, up the secret stair, and survey its landmarks, as he had been doing for years. Now that he understood that the mountain and the Dragon had needs of their own, he was determined to look after them.

He was toying with the idea of letting Star accompany him this year. He normally went alone, as the journey was his task. It was one of the rare occasions when even Zeel left him his space. She had no real desire to be on the mountain again, and often wondered when he grew excited about the trip every year. It was a far cry from his sisters—especially curious Annad—who begged him every year to take them along.

The mountain was no place for curiosity. He had a sort of sway over it now, because the sigil had bonded with him. But it was still a dangerous place, full of mystery and long lost secrets waiting to be uncovered. Now that he had the power to do so, he felt that it was his rightful mission to uncover and reclaim them all. It was still a difficult and draining task, which required no small amount of caution.

Happily, he was the most cautious person in Rin. There was no one else in the village who could have done this work. Star was not particularly cautious, but she respected her father’s work, and she respected the mountain as was proper. And who was better to chronicle his discoveries than his studious daughter, whose plan was to write down the world’s miraculous facts?

Making the journey together would mean much to her, he thought. Though he didn’t relish the thought of bringing it up with his wife. It was another thing they would disagree bitterly on. Zeel would surely stand against such an idea with all her strength, and there was sense in that. The mountain was no place for children. They had learned this through horrible experience.

But there is sense in my point of view, as well, he told himself. We will be equally matched in this argument, as we usually are. We will spend weeks fighting over it. No doubt she will banish me to couch in the common room for days; she did so last time we fought like this. I don’t look forward to that… All the same, I will have to bring it up, sometime.

He resolved to save that string of arguments for another time. For the moment, life was too sweet to spoil with fighting and disagreements.

Early one afternoon, the voice of his far away brother whispered into his mind once again, bringing news he had been expecting for days.

_The trading party has finished packing their things, said their farewells, and departed. The last of the wagons has trundled out of the town, and my place feels sadly empty for it. It has been a good and fruitful stay for us all. I hope your people manage to find just a little more room in their storehouse. A bounty is headed toward Rin._

_And not just a bounty of goods,_ Rowan had answered. _The wealth of knowledge my Star is carrying home is considerable, as well. You said she is bringing back several books full of her notes._

_She filled ten thick notebooks in all this time. I struggle to imagine which sad tomes she left untouched in our library, though she lamented about barely scratching its surface._

_It will be far more than we have here, in any case. My people have been scornful of her work in the past, unable to see how useful her skills really are. When they see all the work she has done, perhaps they will think differently. That will please this father’s heart greatly._

_Your step-father’s heart will also be greatly pleased. Alanis has done well on her own. My people seem to like and trust her, as they have trusted John in the past. She is young and still has much to learn, but she has the makings of a discerning trader and a fine leader. You should be proud of your little sister. And tell your mother that she should be proud, also. I can see clearly as the sun, the role of a man’s little wife would suit the child poorly. Tell Jiller that the Keeper of the Crystal says so. Perhaps the word of two Titans will put an end to her worries._

_What of the rest of my family? I can’t imagine it was a tearful farewell, but Marlie has never been one for good-byes._

The Keeper laughed softly in his mind, like a wave breaking against a rock. _No, it was not a tearful farewell,_ he agreed. _But it was a long one. They dislike being apart for 11 months out of the year, when such fellowship thrives between them. It is not as easy for them as it is for us, who are never terribly far apart at all._

_So, we shall be expecting them back in the next few days. That will please my people. And the traders will be pleased, also, to see the work we have done here._

This time, the Keeper’s laugh was sharper, enough to feel as though sea spray and foam had splashed into his mind. _So says the man with three days of unwashed dishes piling up in his kitchen sink. You should see to those at some point_ before _your daughter returns._

_Oh, hush, you. It’s on my to-do list. And I mean to get to it before my wife does. We have much to discuss in the coming weeks, and I would prefer to be on her sweeter side._

_I shall leave you to it, then. Perlain is coming, and I wish to speak with him; and I sense that someone is coming to see you, as well. Your feisty sister, if I am correct. And I usually am._

_Tell him hello for me, Doss. And thank him for looking after Star. Let him know how much it means to us all._

_As if I have not been giving him such tidings all month, but I shall repeat it all once again. Tell your own family that I say hello, as well._

His voice faded as suddenly as it had appeared, and was gone like a receding tide.

It’s nice that we come and go from each other’s minds so freely, Rowan thought as he went to the door to greet his sister. When it first happened, contacting each other took a great deal of concentration, and so we left it only for true moments of need. Now that we are both Titans, it’s easy. That connection is still very special, because we had it before we quite realized who we were; and it was a clue that I should have taken better advantage of. I’m glad that we share it.

Which makes me wonder where Mithren has been, and why he hasn’t spoken with us recently. He is normally as present in my mind as Doss is, and can come and go from us as easily as we can come and go from him. Yet we’ve only spoken with him once or twice in the last month. Where could he be, and what could he be up to?

I’ll have to worry about him later, though. Annad is enough of a distraction for the time being….

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After Annad had left that afternoon, word of the trading party’s return spread like wildfire. By the following afternoon, the whole village had been aware of it, and the people were buzzing with excitement. Life would soon be back to normal, and another year’s worth of valuable goods would arrive to be bought and sold.

Word had not spread of what Annad had come to talk to her brother about, though. It was a secret she was wisely keeping as closely as she could, and was known to only a very small handful of people she trusted. Rowan wasn’t sure if their mother even knew of it yet.

“I would be expecting a rather awkward question from Norriss in the next few weeks, if I were you,” the woman had said vaguely. “Something to do with rings and white dresses and flowers, and possibly this coming summertime. Or perhaps he will mention next autumn. I don’t think he’s made up his mind just yet. In any case, it will be happening; so be prepared not to be angry with him, please.”

Rowan wasn’t sure what his sister had been expecting him to do, but his reaction seemed to have surprised her. “Well, finally,” he had scoffed. “It’s about time. This dance of yours has been exhausting. Thank you for coming to an agreement, at last.”

Annad had stared at him flatly. “I said nothing,” she had insisted.

“You said enough. And I’m not angry—in fact, I’m rather pleased. I have wagers to collect from several people, now. Including Bronden, who thinks she knows her apprentice so well. I’ll collect enough to expand my garden, as I’ve been wanting to. Thank you, little sister, thank you so much.”

The blonde woman had been in a huffy mood afterwards. But she had stayed for more than an hour, sharing news and a pot of tea with her brother and sister-in-law. In spite of her mood, she had been slow to finally leave their house and return to her own work. She was busy this season training a new, small class of youngsters, only five strong, and one of them was hardly strong at all. But she had equipped this one odd little girl with a dagger, and the child was showing a little skill at it. With time and training, Annad hoped the girl would be strong enough for a short sword, or perhaps a whip.

“If she grows to favor a whip, I shall have to send her to you, brother,” she had said as she finally left. “I’m at home with blades of all kinds, but whips have always felt clumsily in my hands. Your strength has always been in your hands, and so they have always suited you much better. It’s the only weapon you’ve ever been great or even good with.”

Rowan and Zeel had waved after her, glad that she enjoyed her work. Annad was a grown woman, closer now to thirty than twenty, and she lived an unusually unsettled adult life. She still lived with her parents, mostly; she insisted that it pleased her mother, and was good for her little sister for her to be so close by. Half the nights of the week, however, she ended up sleeping at her brother’s house. It seemed to the people that she lived like a nomad, in and out of her family’s attics, because she had no house of her own and no husband to provide one. And it didn’t seem to bother her one speck. In fact, she almost seemed to revel in her freedom.

It was really just like her. She was taller and fiercer than she once was, but she hadn’t changed a bit.

That had been four days earlier. In those four days, the husband and wife had been slowly tidying their house once again. Hopefully, once the floors were swept, and the stove was scrubbed clean, and the dishes were all washed, Star would come home and never realize that the house had fallen into such disarray. It wouldn’t do for her to think that such a thing was permissible.

Now it was late in the evening of the fourth day. They had thought of journeying into the hills for one last late night of wandering, but had decided against it. Zeel had decided that the night was too chilly, and the journey would have been unpleasant for her. Also, she wished to start rising early again, and had a long list of things to do in the morning. And so they had instead shared some of her newly made mead, and gone to bed a little earlier than they had been. It was uneventful, but they were sure to be glad of it later.

“You seem tense,” she commented as she curled up beside him. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he answered, raising his hand to touch the Earth sigil. “It’s another day closer to seeing our daughter again. I’m just excited, I suppose.”

She smiled and closed her eyes. “Then get to sleep, so another day can dawn and pass quickly. I’m excited, too.”

Rowan wanted to sleep, but it wasn’t coming easily for some reason. He briefly reflected on his life, and how it couldn’t possibly be better. For all that he was a Titan with tremendous power, his life was settled and happy, more so than he had ever dreamed it could be. His daughter was on her way home. His wife was asleep at his side. His best friend and beloved sister were thinking to be married in the coming year. His village was alive and safe, and prosperous. His life was nearly perfect. The only thing that could have made it more perfect would have been having his father alive to see it all.

So what was keeping him awake? He felt worry clouding his mind for what seemed no reason at all. He gripped the sigil and closed his eyes.

_Please tell me, my friend. What is coming? What is about to happen?_

Instinctively, he braced himself for burning pain and whispered words, and the alarm it would cause his wife. He waited for long moments, but nothing happened. The medallion of gold remained cool in his hand, as ordinary and lifeless as a useless trinket.

Then it is nothing, he assured himself. If there was a real reason to be worried, the sigil would have told me so. I really am just excited to see Star, and there is nothing to fear. Nothing at all.

He forced the worry from his mind, forced himself to relax, so he could sleep. Life would go on in the morning, and he would need all the energy he could get.

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A sudden noise broke through his restful but dreamless sleep. Rowan’s eyes flew open at once, though he remained utterly still in his bed. For a strange, sickening moment, it was like reliving the darkest parts of his adventures. Every muscle in his body reflexively tensed, braced for action. He strained to listen for sound, trying to hear the noise that had woken him.

The noise didn’t come again, but with a start he realized what it had been. It was the jingling of a brass bell hung above the backdoor. During the day, it would have said that a patient, or perhaps a sister, had come to see him. During the latest hours of the night, it could only signal an intruder.

Beside him, Zeel was also tense. She was wide awake, urgently gripping his arm with one hand, and slowly reaching beneath her pillow with the other for the dagger she kept hidden there. He knew that she was listening just as intently as he was. And she was taking no chances.

A sharp creaking sound reached their ears. It was the sound of a loose floorboard, only yards from their bedroom door, being unwittingly stepped on and then backed off of in surprise.

Zeel’s grip on his arm tightened.

“Someone is in the house,” she whispered needlessly through gritted teeth.

“Be ready,” he whispered back.

He felt more than saw her nod of agreement. They parted and slid out of their bed like shadows, not making a sound. She had pulled the long blade from under her pillow, casting its sheath aside so the metal glinted clearly in the dimness. He took up his whip, rarely ever used, coiled on the small table beside the bed. Armed and ready to face the frightening unknown together, they moved silently to the door.

Another door down the hallway was being opened—they could hear the hinges creaking slightly. They could hear muffled whispering, and the sound of that door being closed again. There were two or three intruders, at least. Rowan wondered furiously who they were, and what they could want.

Robbers, who believe me to be rich as well as odd, he decided grimly. Or perhaps a parcel of older children, on a dare from some of their friends. Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s been years since we’ve had to deal with ruffians like this, but we can do it again. I doubt they can surprise us.

We can surprise them, however. They don’t know where we are yet; but we can easily guess where they are, even though the door is closed. There aren’t many doors in this house, and very few places for so many people to hide. Whoever it is, we will catch them, for sure.

He was far from afraid. All the same, the intrusion was alarming. And for some reason, he felt dread creeping into his bones. Something was stirring in the air. Something menacing and terribly familiar. But he couldn’t quite place the feeling, and it alarmed him even more.

They took their positions on either side of the closed door, flattening themselves against the wall and holding their weapons at the ready. A troop of soft footsteps was making its way down the hall. Another second or two, and the door would ease open. Any second….

The doorknob began to turn, cautiously slow. With the same slight creaking sound, the door began to open. Standing against the wall, they couldn’t see who had opened it. The dark shape of a head and a broad pair of shoulders leaned into their view, just silhouetted by moonlight.

“Nothing here,” whispered a voice, as the shape retreated.

“Then search the attic,” came a gruff, whispered answer. “She is here. She _must_ be. I can sense it.”

That was as good a queue as any. As one, the husband and wife raised their weapons and spun out into the hall—directly into a battle they hadn’t expected in the slightest.

The following minutes of fighting passed in a blur of twisting bodies, flashing blades, and darkness, which Rowan spent the rest of his life unable to make sense of. The attack they had stumbled into instantly made him aware of several things at once.

First of all, there were far more than two or three intruders; he could feel the swirling energies of at least ten strangers, all of them tall, armed, and somehow pulsing with unexplainable power.

Second, he was woefully outnumbered, and would certainly need magic if he was going to keep himself and his wife safe from these people.

Third, a sudden cry of pain, a triumphant shout from Zeel, and a door slamming shut somewhere down the hall.

And finally, a chill of pure terror, as he silently screamed to the sigil for help, and it gave no answer.

They spent what seemed an agonizingly long time battling the small army of invaders, trying their best to fend them off. But they had never stood a chance against so many. Rowan quickly felt two pairs of powerful arms take hold of his own, felt his whip yanked out of his hand, and found himself being dragged toward the backdoor. He struggled with all his might, but the hands that held him were far stronger than his own, and there was no hope of escaping them. Behind him, Zeel was also being dragged away, struggling just as vainly against her own captors.

“Quiet down,” a woman’s voice snarled in his ear. “Not another sound out of you, you hear me? We’re not above slitting a few throats, if we have to.”

Every instinct in his body ached to scream for help. The carpentry was only down the lane; surely, his friends would hear, and they would come. However, the instinct to protect his wife was overwhelming. People would look on it later as dreadful weakness of will. For now, with so many enemies pressed around him, he couldn’t believe that a call for help would be worth the risk. He continued to struggle every step of the way, but he didn’t make another sound.

“Zane, Rita, wait,” someone commanded. “Not another step. If we let the Titan surround himself with raw earth, we won’t stand a chance. Just take the woman outside. And someone get us some light, already.”

Rowan was pulled to halt and then to the side, as his two captors—Zane and Rita—made way for Zeel to be hauled kicking and screaming outside. He could feel panic radiating off of her like heat, even though he could barely see her. He struggled desperately to reach for her, but he was held too tightly. She was ripped painfully from his reach. The terror was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

He abandoned his warning to be silent. “Let her go,” he begged as loudly as he dared. “Whatever it is you want from us, I’ll give it to you! Take me if you must—just let her go!”

A reddish-yellow light flared up, illuminating their attackers for the first time. Every one of them was tall and straight as a watchtower, all dressed in uniforms of steel gray and black. They were all dark-skinned and dark-haired, and might have been easily mistaken for Travelers…

If only for the black mark they all bore, running in a cruel streak from their hairlines to the tips of their noses. Rowan gaped at them in shock, his eyes widening in speechless horror.

Their attackers were all Zebak.

The closest to him was a man his own height, the gold emblem on his jacket marking him as a high-ranking officer, most likely the leader. His eyes were pale violet, and might have been quite beautiful if they hadn’t been clouded by so many thoughts and emotions. Beside him, a slightly shorter woman stood at ridged attention, holding what looked like a blazing ball of fire in her left hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Rowan couldn’t help but marvel briefly at this; but mainly, his horrified gaze was locked on the violet-eyed leader.

“There is nothing you can give us, now,” the man stated plainly, almost unhappily. “We’ve already claimed what we came for.”

His eyes flicked away, and he gave a slight nod. “Zane, deal with him.”

“As you wish, Zamiel,” came the grim, reluctant reply.

A splitting pain hit his head like a thunderbolt, and dots of light danced across his eyes. He felt himself crumpling to his knees. He heard his name being screamed, but it was already far distant. The world went dark once again, and he knew no more.

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	10. Shocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-dun-DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11  
> I’m looking forward to you meeting this OC, as I have put a lot of thought and work into him. Never mind the parallels between him and prince Zuko…….. This whole arc is eerily similar to ATLA, for some odd reason. But I swear, I came up with the magic system WAAAAAY before I knew that Avatar was a thing that existed. :/  
> Bottom line: ELEMENTZ  
> Also, it seemed like the story had gone on for far too long without a chapter entitled…

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_Chapter 10: Shocks_

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Rowan woke to faraway voices calling his name. His head was pounding, and his eyelids seemed pinned shut. He had to force them open, and let his vision focus slowly on the two faces hovering over his own.

It was Norriss and Annad, both their faces tight and pale with concern. His sister had his head cradled in her lap, and she was gently shaking him, trying to wake him. His brother knelt beside them, waiting patiently for him to come around; but his normally serious eyes were dark with fear and confusion.

He felt dizzy and sick. He had been lying unconscious on the floor by the backdoor, and he couldn’t remember how he had gotten there. All he could remember was a mass of twisting shadows, a blaze of light, and a sudden bolt of blinding pain behind his eyes.

Seeing his eyes finally opening, Annad gave an enormous sigh of relief. “Finally, you’re awake,” she said, halfway between greeting and scolding, sounding very much like their mother. “Rowan, what on earth happened here last night? Where’s Zeel?”

Her voice suddenly sounded much louder and closer than it had before, and it made him wince slightly. All he could do was mumble vaguely, because he wasn’t prepared to answer so many questions he couldn’t remember the answers to. He couldn’t quite remember anything that had happened.

Seeing his obvious confusion, Norriss shook his head grimly. “Annad found you this way, about an hour ago,” he explained slowly. “The backdoor was just hanging open; and you were unconscious, with a decent lump on the back of your head. There are signs of a struggle all over the house—your whip was lying in the middle of the floor, along with a couple of blades, and there are slashes on the walls that look far from accidental. And…”

It was unlike Norriss to falter, but he had to pause and take a deep breath before continuing. “Rowan, we can’t find Zeel. We’ve searched the house, inside and out; Shaaran and Bronden went and searched the village, but we simply can’t find her anywhere. Tell us where she is. You must know where she is.”

The mention of it brought an onslaught of terrible understanding. Memories came rushing back from the night before, like a waking nightmare. Gray uniforms. Striped faces. Pale violet eyes locked on his own. A stern woman casually holding a ball of fire in her hand. Zeel’s voice shouting his name in desperation. Another voice, flat and emotionless.

_There is nothing you can give us, now. We’ve already claimed what we came for._

It felt as though fire and ice had gripped his heart. Panic rose in him, and he jumped up without a word to his family. He darted out into the yard, with only one thought on his mind:

He had to do something. Anything. He had no idea what he was doing, but his wife was in terrible danger. He had to do _something_. He would simply follow them into the hills, chase them down, and rescue her. Their leader had been right—with so much wide, open earth at his command, that small army wouldn’t stand a chance. And he was certain that those ten Zebak invaders had come by land, somehow; if they had come by air, they would have been struck down by the Dragon long before they had reached his house.

All he had to do was pick up their trail, reach into the earth with his magic, and find where they were. It was a perfectly simple plan. It was a sensible plan. For all that it was completely reckless and had been formed in a split-second’s panic, it was a good plan.

But there was no trail to pick up. The dust and dry grass had been trampled by heavy boots, but the prints ended abruptly halfway across the yard. It was as if the invaders had appeared out of nowhere to begin with, and had vanished right back into thin air.

And it was horrifically clear that Zeel had vanished right along with them.

_We’ve already claimed what we came for._

Panic ebbed away. Cold understanding and deep despair quickly took its place. He crumpled to his knees, unable to hold himself up. A wail of anguish sprang up from his broken heart, and he didn’t even think of trying to hold it back.

All around him, it seemed that the dried grass withered just a little more.

I’ve failed her, he thought numbly. I was standing right there, with all the power in the world to stop this, and I could do nothing. How could I have not known this was coming? How could the sigil refuse to answer me, when I clearly needed it so badly? How could this have happened?

What am I going to tell Star...?

“…Rowan?”

Annad was speaking again, slightly hesitant, but unquestioning. And, strangely, she didn’t sound surprised. In fact, it sounded as if his actions had only confirmed her fears.

“There was… Well, while we were searching the house, we did find something… You may want to come see this.”

Rowan was beyond feeling. If he felt anything, he felt cold and empty. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel fear, or interest in what his sister had found. The only reason he followed her was because Norriss had come and gently hauled him to his feet. He was steered back into the house, with the odd sensation of being in a terrible dream.

Annad was waiting for them by the last door in the hallway, her expression strange and unnamable. It was the least interesting door in the whole house. All it led to was a coat closet. The only things inside it were the family’s heavy winter coats and boots, put away until snow began to fall.

“Listen,” Annad said in a low voice, speaking slowly for her brother. “When I open this door, _do not_ lose your temper. Swear it to me.”

He couldn’t even think of words to answer with. All he could really do was stare blankly past her, at nothing in particular. Norriss’ grip on his shoulders was the only reason he was still standing upright.

“Annad, I don’t think he has the presence of mind to swear anything in particular,” the taller man pointed out. “Just open the door. The sooner we get this behind us, the better.”

She bit her lip nervously as she opened the closet door, revealing a sight that rekindled a little of her brother’s feeling.

A stripe-faced young man in a steel gray uniform was kneeling on the floor inside the closet, bound hand and foot, his shaggy head bowed in defeat. As the door opened, he started and looked up. His face was vaguely familiar, but his eyes were instantly recognizable. They were the same pale violet as the leader’s had been. Only instead of flashing with many ideas and emotions, the boy’s eyes were wide and dark with fear.

Annad and Norriss, he plainly recognized. Seeing Rowan for the first time, though, he cringed and made a small whimpering noise, even more afraid than before.

Another memory came back: a cry of pain. A shout of triumph. A door slamming shut. Rowan could see how it must have happened, as if there had been plenty of light to see by. Zeel had tackled this boy last night. She had knocked him out, and thrown him aside—into the coat closet, where his unconscious body would be out of the way. And there he had remained until just a little while ago, when he had woken to find that his teammates had left him behind, at the mercy of their sworn enemies.

Rowan suddenly felt as though a furnace had been lit in his belly. He could feel searing hot rage flowing in his blood. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so furious with anyone for anything. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was strangle this young man to death. If he couldn’t rescue his wife, he could certainly avenge her loss.

Norriss could feel it too, and his grip tightened as his friend began to struggle.

“Rowan, stay calm—”

“No! You let go of me! Let me teach this monster a lesson,” he shouted back, fighting all the harder for freedom.

“You’re not teaching anyone anything, and that’s that,” Norriss snapped back, his tone amazingly even. “Annad, shut the door. We need this kid alive.”

She wordlessly did as she was told, shutting their terrified prisoner away from her raging brother.

“ _Alive_?” he thundered. “They kidnapped my wife! It’s all his fault!”

Norris pulled him away and shook him hard.

“Rowan, stop this! You’re not thinking clearly. He’s only one boy—little more than a child. What he was doing in an entire team of adults, I have no idea. By all rights, he isn’t even supposed to be here. How could any of this be _his_ fault?”

Rowan was still furious, but his friend’s words made sense. No one knew more of the Zebak and their ways than Norriss did, after all. The murderous rage began to subside, and he forced himself to be calm, and just listen.

“It isn’t like Central Control to send clumsy, untrained children to do a skilled officer’s work,” Norriss continued. “Either this team has done something quite illegal, or their practices have changed dramatically from what I remember. Something very strange is going on elsewhere in the world. Whatever it is, Zeel has been swept into the middle of it; and we have been swept along with her. This young man has been compliant enough, so far. I think he can help us.”

Behind him, Annad had set her lips in a firm line, biting her tongue. She looked dubious. In his current mood, Rowan had to share his sister’s feelings. At the same time, Norriss had the right idea. As long as the boy was trapped with them, the least they could do was try to drill him for information.

He looked at his friend’s grimly set face and stormy eyes. Norriss was being practical, looking for something productive to do, because that was how he always faced moments of trouble. On the inside, though, his heart was broken, too. He was afraid for the woman he loved like a sister, and angry with the people who had abducted her so easily. But he could never let it show on his face. All he could do was try to hide it, and try to move forward.

“I never said I trust the boy,” he growled. “I don’t like him any more than you do. In fact, I’d like to punch him in the face. But if he’s alive and whole, we will get far more use out of him. Knowledge is our best weapon right now. We should use it.”

Rowan took a deep breath, forcing all his passionate feelings out of the way, leaving room only for practicality. He straightened himself and squared his shoulders, forming a new plan. He had always been the one with a plan.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “We should use it. I imagine my step-father is unaware of this yet.”

“We’ve been here with you the whole time. No one knows of this boy but the three of us.”

“Then I will go see him, once I’m dressed. Then, we need to summon the village for a meeting.”

2222222222

Less than an hour later, the entire village had gathered in the square; and every pair of eyes was fixed in horrified fascination on the prisoner, held fast before them between Annad and Norriss. The Zebak boy was trembling where he stood, which was almost comic to see. Even though he was clearly afraid, he still stood with dignity, unashamed of who he was. The people might have thought him noble, if they hadn’t been so disgusted by him.

John and Rowan stood before them, also, facing the crowd together. A more unlikely pair of authority figures, the village had never seen before. One to lead their heads, and one to lead their hearts. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that they would get to the bottom of the whole mess.

The boy never kept his eyes in one place for too long; there was too much to look at, too much to be aware of. Mostly, his violet eyes darted back and forth between his two captors, as he regarded them with apprehension and a kind of confused awe. Once or twice, they had slid in Rowan’s direction; but as soon as the Titan noticed, the boy would look away again, eyes suddenly full of shame.

No doubt he has heard tales of us in the past, Rowan considered. He has probably been trained from babyhood to despise us, personally. Now Annad is _his_ captor, and he has no idea what to think.

“My friends,” John said loudly, facing the crowd, “we are here this morning to address a very grave matter. It brings me no pleasure to inform you that our village was invaded last night, and that one of our own has been taken from us.”

Fearful murmuring began rippling through the crowd at once, threatening to rise to a roar of outrage. John continued quickly, before that could happen.

“It seems, however, that we have taken a prisoner of our own. This boy was found this morning, abandoned by his men. So far, he has come along quietly. He hope he is willing to share the purpose behind this mission with us all. If not… We will deal with it quietly, and orderly.”

He turned a cold eye on the boy. “We will get what we want from you, one way or another,” he growled. “Are you willing, or will you force us to be creative?”

The boy ducked his head, but faced John squarely. “Yes, sir,” he answered, just loud enough to be heard.

“”It is a trick!” someone shouted. “He will spite us by feeding us lies!”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Rowan answered, and also turned to the prisoner. “We’re going to ask you again, boy: are you willing? And think carefully about your answer this time.”

The boy let his eyes drift to the cobbled street. “Yes, I am willing,” he answered, his voice hushed.

The two leaders exchanged a glance. The boy had answered their question; and as far as Rowan could tell, he had been sincere.

“Very well, then,” John said at last. “You can begin by telling us your name.”

The boy suddenly looked up and stood at attention, his face and voice totally expressionless.

“Unwilling servant of the Dragon Queen, may her reign last a thousand years; property of his lordship, Zared Asan, commander of her majesty’s legions, may his command be long and prosperous; second-class officer of the Night Watch; tenth member of squadron designated C-57; Garased, Zan.”

He finished, and his whole body relaxed slightly. John and Rowan looked at him in surprise. The boy hadn’t so much answered them, as he had responded to a command in the way he had been trained.

“That is quite a name, long and complicated, perhaps for a complicated young man,” John said slowly, a bit impatiently. “Tell us the parts that your parents gave you, then.”

For a split second, the boy looked slightly terrified. He swallowed hard, courageously keeping eye contact with them.

“I am Zan, youngest son of the Garased family,” he answered. The words came haltingly, as if he was unused to just being asked for his name, rather than his long title, and couldn’t believe that someone wanted to know it.

True to his nature, John didn’t pause to think about this.

“You and your men stormed into one of our homes last night, and abducted one of our people. Why?”

Zan looked like he wanted to scoff, but wisely did not. “We came to reclaim one of _our_ people, who had clearly been misplaced,” he answered.

“What were your orders?”

“I don’t know,” Zan said lamely. “I’m only a second-class officer. They don’t tell me much. All I knew was that a woman had been found, far off in the west, and that she was to be brought home. My squad was chosen, so we went.”

John made a face. “How did you know she was here?”

“The Queen has… powers. All the Zebak are bound by blood. The Queen sent out an order to our spies, summoning them home from their posts, and all of them answered. But when she looked, she found that someone hadn’t answered the call, or something. It’s complicated. I don’t know.”

“She summoned all her spies back? Why?”

“All I know is that our city is being flooded with people returning from their missions, and it’s becoming a bother. Why one extra person should matter so much is beyond me.”

“You’re one to talk, boy.”

Zan was indignantly silent.

Rowan paused, watching him. The boy was clearly holding something back. Though perhaps not to spite them. He was simply following orders, as he had done all his life. While he could hardly be blamed for that, there was no time or space for it.

“Your queen can’t reach you here,” he said. “If there’s something you’d like to reveal to us, you should think about doing so now. We’re not the most patient people on the best days. Don’t test us today.”

Zan looked down at the ground again, avoiding the Titan’s glare.

“Look at me!”

The boy’s head snapped up, immediately obedient. He was forcing himself to look up, return Rowan’s gaze, and was doing so courageously. He looked chilled to the bone.

“Be honest. Your men took my wife from me. The least you could do is tell me the truth of why it was done.”

This time, Zan allowed himself the scoff he had been biting back. “Honest? You want me to be honest? You won’t like it. You won’t even believe me.”

Rowan leaned dangerously close to him.

“Try me. Now tell me what your mission really was. And please, do not lie to me.”

Zan swallowed hard, and took a deep breath. “A report was sent out from Central last week. All of our spies had returned and been accounted for—100 men and women in all, as all the records showed. But the Queen sensed that someone was still missing. She looked into it and discovered a spare. Someone who was still in the west, who hadn’t been sent. She drew a lottery of her generals, and my commander was chosen. She gave him orders to select a squadron from his legions, who would go and bring this missing person back. For whatever reason, he chose mine, C-57.”

“And your orders were?”

“Just to find the missing person and bring them back, by whatever means we felt necessary.”

Rowan began to pace, suddenly overwhelmed with questions. “And was your squad aware that this missing person was married to the Earth Titan?”

“No, we never dreamed of it,” Zan answered hurriedly. “If we had known before hand—”

“Your leader certainly seemed aware of it.”

“It was obvious, after we looked around. And we could feel it. There was no way to mistake it. Her majesty is… Like you, in some ways.”

Rowan stifled a groan. “Yes, I know,” he murmured. Raising his voice, he continued, “I imagine she used that to her advantage.”

“I don’t understand what you mean, sir.”

“Then let me clarify, because there are a couple of things puzzling me about your being here. For example, my talisman, which always warns me of coming danger, never once hinted at your coming. Why do you suppose that might be, Zan?”

The boy gaped at him and desperately shook his head.

“My guess is that your queen used some kind of magic with your squad. Did she do anything unusual, before you left? Perhaps something she spoke of as a spell?”

“The ten of us were summoned personally to her throne last night, just before we were sent,” he said slowly, carefully thinking back. “It’s a rare honor for any normal officer, if you could call it that… She said that she had cloaked us, made us undetectable to the Titans—invisible, she said.”

Rowan bowed his head and gripped the sigil around his neck. He had raged at it before, thinking it had abandoned him for some reason. Now he understood. There had been danger, after all. The sigil most certainly would have warned him of it; if it had been able to see it. Even while he had been attacked and overwhelmed, the sigil had been unable to sense the ten cloaked, invisible warriors right in front of it.

A dirty, underhanded trick, indeed.

“Here is another question for you, Zan. Your squad clearly didn’t walk all the way to this village, nor did you fly. If you had done either, none of you would have lived to complete your mission. So explain how you were able to come and go so conveniently.”

“I’m telling you, you’re never going to believe me.”

“And I’m telling you, try me. Now explain.”

Zan squeezed his eyes shut, shivered, and mumbled his answer. “We were…….. Teleported.”

Rowan stopped pacing to stare at the boy, not surprised in the slightest, but curious in spite of himself. “Teleported? How is that?”

“The whole thing was done by magic,” Zan blurted out, trying desperately to explain himself. “She ordered us to clear our minds, to think of nothing at all. Then she snapped her fingers, and we were just… _Gone_. We were here, in your village, in your backyard, as she had promised we would be. I can’t explain how she does it, but… You think I’m lying, but I’m not! I swear it!”

“Do not yell at me,” Rowan snapped back. “Of course you’re telling the truth. I’m not blind.”

“You actually believe me?”

Rowan’s gaze was cold. “For the moment.”

Zan sighed and shook his head with a grimace. “Look,” he said, “I’m sorry. I’m sincerely sorry. I didn’t ask for this to happen. I didn’t even want to do this. None of us did.”

“Yet you did it.”

“We belong to Central Control; and more importantly, we belong to the Dragon Lord. It’s not like we had much of a choice. We do as we’re told. That’s our only job. That’s the only reason we’re even alive.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to go through with this mission? By all accounts, you should be pleased to have one of your sisters back.”

Zan scoffed again, a little louder this time. “She was one of the lucky few. One in ten thousand Zebak have the chance of escaping so perfectly. Escape has always been so difficult, so dangerous, so rarely blessed with success; and these days, it’s even worse. But she, at least, was free. How could we _want_ to drag her away from that? Not all of us are cruel, hard-hearted monsters, you know.”

Rowan bit his lip, thinking that declaration over for a moment. It was a fact that he was well aware of. How many times in the past had his friends insisted that the Zebak weren’t all bad, but generally quite good? In their own escape, 18 years earlier, they had left life-long friends and guardians behind, in a situation that could only be described as slavery.

In his anger and shock, he had conveniently forgotten it. The gathered people knew very little of it, or refused to hear of it at all. John knew of it very well, but had no time to care in this moment.

“So, you claim to be one of the ‘good ones’, do you?” the big man demanded.

Zan shrugged faintly. “I suppose. I’ve never done anything particularly terrible.”

“And your team had no great desire to go on this mission?”

“No, sir. It grieved us all to have to do it.”

“But you had the choice,” John pointed out, his tone icy and full of disgust. “You might have chosen not to go through with it, but you did it anyway. You came here knowingly bearing us ill will, and you caused us pain deliberately. A person could well argue that this _does_ , in fact, make you a monster.”

“No. There was no choice,” Zan said bitterly. “The Queen will not stand defiance from her officers. The rebellion of one is the rebellion of all. All ten of us would have been put to death—or worse. Being the Queen’s personal property is no pride or joy, but it beats the fields, or the salt mines. At least we are fed, and housed, and our families are cared for.”

“Is a little rebellion not worth the risk? Does the chance to stand up for yourselves mean so little to you? Is your own life worth more than the life of an innocent? One might call that cowardly.”

“You don’t understand.” Zan’s voice was cracking, overflowing with emotions and desperation. “We are of Central Control—we can take anything she can throw at us. We don’t care. But what of the people who depend on us? What of the people who count on us? The people who would be killed or enslaved right along with us? No, the risk is far too great.”

He bowed his head, babbling on as much to himself as to the people. “Just think of them all. Ofelia. Misha. Nyoma—poor Nyoma, who is ill, and has three small children with Zane. The eldest of them is only eight years old. They wouldn’t last a week in the salt mines. It is a death sentence! They’re only children! How could we think of doing that to them?”

The whole crowd was regarding him with deep confusion. His words painted a picture so different from their own, it was unbearably uncomfortable. These people had come with such a dark purpose only because they had been forced to, knowing that the people they loved would pay just as steeply and unfairly for any sort of failure to follow orders.

The idea of the Zebak being able to even feel love was ridiculous to the people of Rin. The idea of them feeling fear was almost comic, reserved for moments when they truly deserved it—such as the instance many years ago, when their invading fleet of fighting grach had been incinerated by the Dragon’s jealous flame. It had definitely served them right to be so afraid, when they had been so proud and spiteful. That had been refreshing.

Seeing this stripe-faced young man trembling and humiliated had been refreshing, too. It had served him right to be left behind and captured, when he had wronged them so. Suddenly, though, it was hard to tell who had been wronged, exactly. Suddenly, rather than refreshing, it was just very awkward.

There was a whirlwind of varied ideas, feelings, questions, and solutions swirling through the minds of the people. Rowan could feel them all, like a storm wind in his face. Personally, he was reflecting on the words of Zan’s long title. Unwilling servant of the Dragon Queen. Property of one of her commanders. May _they_ be successful. Second-class of his division. Tenth and lowest ranking member of his team.

And then, finally, his own name. It came with no details, no praise, and no mention of his potential or prosperity. It simply came last, very last, as if it were only an afterthought. As if it hardly even mattered.

It could all only mean one thing. Zan Garased may have been housed, fed, and provided for, because he was a member of Central Control. But that did little to excuse the fact that his life didn’t really belong to him. His life and freedom were in someone else’s hands.

Zan was a slave. A slave in fine clothes, with great skills, but a slave, all the same.

And that couldn’t possibly bode well for Zeel.

“Tell me something,” he said, breaking the heavily silence that had fallen. “What does your queen intend to do with my wife?”

Zan lifted his eyes again, slightly more used to being honest, even though it was painful for both of them.

“Her majesty will find a use for her, somehow. I couldn’t begin to tell you where; it wasn’t part of the assignment. Perhaps she will be angry, and send the woman to toil in the fields. Perhaps she will be sent into the workforce, to provide for the common folk. Or perhaps the Queen will be pleased and impressed, and grant her a place at court in exchange for her knowledge of this land. Many things could be done. All I can say with certainty is that if she can work in some way, she will be made in the name of the Queen to do it.”

“She will be a slave, like you.”

“Bound to serve for the remainder of her life. However long it lasts. No Zebak walks free, but the Dragon Lord. It has been so for thousands of years, and will be so for thousands more. There is no hope for any of us.”

Rowan bowed his head, rubbed his hand over his face. Perhaps Zan had given up hope—perhaps he had never been allowed to hope in the first place. But there had to still be some, somewhere.

“I can tell you a little more, while I’m being so honest,” Zan commented flatly. “It’s no more pleasant than anything else I’ve had to say, but I think you deserve to know. If you dare to hear it, I will tell you gladly.”

“Gladly?”

Zan shrugged again, smirking spitefully. “This is the first time I’ve been so free in my life. I’ll tell you anything you wish to know. No one’s stopping me.”

“…Very well, then. What do you have to say?”

“You speak of this woman as your wife. It’s only fair to warn you, then, that the Queen will never recognize it. If she didn’t authorize it and sign the records herself, then it didn’t happen. As long as anything can happen, I can’t promise that your wife won’t be forced into marriage with someone else, of her majesty’s choosing. She may find it a worthwhile idea. She could use the fruits of that union to her advantage. And it is a favorite pastime of hers, to deliberately pair her officers with people we will dislike, as punishment for nothing in particular.”

Zan had been right. That was a horrifically unpleasant idea. And somehow, it was unsurprising.

“On that note, about the child…”

“What child?”

“Your child. The one whose mother is obviously your wife. The one whose room in your house is empty.  I don’t know where that child is, but be glad he or she wasn’t there last night. If there is one thing the Dragon Lord will never tolerate, it is our people mixing their blood with others. Orders stand at all times that any half-bred children we may find are to be destroyed immediately.”

Zan paused for a moment, letting the knowledge sink in. Rowan was slightly stunned at what a near thing it was, and how much more terrible the situation could have been. If squad C-57 had been sent only a few days later, Star would have been home. She would have perhaps been home for only a day, or mere hours. She would have been asleep in her bed, happy to be home at last, completely unsuspecting. She would have been slaughtered mercilessly, without a chance to defend herself.

He felt a stab of guilt. How he had longed for her to stay at home, where he thought she would be safe. Where he thought he could have protected her from harm. If he had gotten his way, Star would be dead right now.

“I might not have told you so before, because you never asked; but no one is here to punish me, and you have begged me to be honest, and, frankly, I think you have a right to know it. I’m sincerely sorry this had to happen. It broke all our hearts to have to go through with this. It’s not like we didn’t try—we spent days trying to find a way out of this assignment. Zirita spent two of them weeping over the whole thing; we thought she was going to die of sheer despair.

“But then she looked at those three little kids, who need their father alive to protect them, and it made her strong again. We hated having to tear a family apart this way, but we have families of our own. We have to think of them first, because that’s what families do. Look me in the eye and tell me you would have done any differently.”

Angry murmuring and shouts of outrage rose from the crowd. Zan had been bold in his words. A little too bold. The people of Rin liked to think that they would always do the right thing, no matter the cost. Honor and duty were two virtues they held most highly. His challenge was infuriating to them all.

But Rowan returned the boy’s gaze, steadily, grimly, and honestly. He also liked to think that he would have done the right thing, and spared an innocent family such awful tragedy. He had experienced so much tragedy over his life; causing it for someone else was a thing he would never consider doing. However, in his heart, he knew that Zan was right. If he had been put to the same test, with Zeel and Star hanging in the balance, he would done the same. He would not have liked it, and he never would have fully forgiven himself, but he would have done it.

Because, as Zan had said, he had to put them first. He was their husband and father, and it was his duty to protect them at any cost.

Beside him, John was silent, staring stonily at the ground. He was considering the challenge also, and thinking of his own family. The family he had waited and fought so long for, and sacrificed so much for. Perhaps, even now, he was feeling a grain of sympathy for Zane—the man who had held his stepson hostage and knocked him unconscious, while his beloved daughter-in-law was hauled away into slavery. The man who had done so with a heavy heart, fearing all the while for his sick wife and his own three children, who would have paid a bitter price for his rebellion.

Neither of them felt the outrage of the crowd. Mostly, they felt humbled and vaguely shamed.

“Don’t listen to him, Rowan,” someone shouted. “He’s using your soft heart and weak will against you! Resist him, for the love of all things!”

Rowan spun around and quickly matched the voice to a face. It was Anson, Bree and Hanna’s oldest son, who had once tormented him by pushing slugs in his face. They had never gotten along as boys; they generally got along even less, now that they were men. Rowan silenced him with a glare, peeved that he would present himself as if he had anything of value to say.

“Be silent, Anson,” he snapped. “Stop babbling about things you refuse to understand. In any case, the boy has told the truth, and nothing but the truth.”

“You can’t mean to say you trust him!”

“I never said that. I wouldn’t trust him any further than I could throw him, which you know well is not far at all. All I said is that he has told the truth. He’s told us everything we asked of him, and more. There is great value in what he’s shared with us. And he hasn’t resisted us once; that, too, is useful.”

Anson glared back, angered that someone he despised so much had such authority over him. He cleared his throat and said in a more level voice, “I have a question for you, now, and I believe I speak for all of us. If he’s so valuable and useful, what do you intend to do with him now? You’ve gotten what you wanted from him for the moment. Do you intend to let him walk freely among us until you need him again?”

“Of course not. I may be an oddity, but I’m not stupid.” Rowan turned away, staunchly ignoring the other man, and faced John instead. “I do think we’ll be needing this boy again, though. There is still much we could learn from him. And if his Dragon Queen can teleport people to and from our village at will, his insights would make us better prepared for it. If all else fails, having a hostage could be an advantage.”

John shook his head. “You think to keep him here, and alive, then,” he guessed.

“For the time being, yes.”

“The people will care little for that. They would sooner have him dead; there will be no peace in our village, knowing that a live Zebak warrior is lurking somewhere.”

“The things he can share with us may be worth a little uncertainty. There are worse things than being uncomfortable.”

“Unless you presume to guard him with your own eyes at every hour, I doubt they would agree to such a thing.”

“We will keep him in the jailhouse. There is only one way in or out of it, and the door is guarded at all times. Someone who hates and fears him will guard him better than someone who is interested in him, after all. And if I recall my history lessons properly, Zebak hostages have been kept well there in the past, during the Plains War. The only way he could escape is if someone let him out. Who among us would do something so insane?”

John looked up at the crowd, which was now milling quietly, listening to their debate. They both had several valid points. Keeping Zan as a live prisoner could be dangerous; but his knowledge had the potential to save them. Rowan’s proposition seemed to the people a reasonable middle ground. If the boy were locked in an inescapable cell, under constant supervision, unable to disrupt their lives until he was summoned, perhaps it would be worthwhile.

Hearing no protests, John nodded slowly.

“So be it, then. Norriss and Annad, take the boy to the jailhouse. Secure him and return with all speed. We have much to discuss, still.”

The two warriors nodded back, and began to lead Zan away. All they had to do was pull him gently; he followed without a struggle, almost tamely. He looked over his shoulder only once and gave the crowd a rueful smile.

“Still beats the salt mines,” he called after them. “I’d rather rot in a jail cell any day.”

Rowan was still angry, but he couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy. At this hour yesterday, he had been a slave. Now he was the prisoner of his people’s most hated enemy, and still being argued over like a piece of meat and dragged around like a sack of flour. Like an object, which couldn’t think for itself, or respond in any way. But at least his enemies weren’t allowed to beat him for speaking his mind, and that was more freedom than he had ever tasted before.

His life and his fate were still out of his hands, but he preferred it to being home. It would have been heartbreaking, if he hadn’t already broken their hearts so badly.

He shook his head sharply, trying to force those feelings away. He had no time to feel sorry for the boy. Spending even a second feeling sorry seemed like a waste of time, when he had caused so much pain and trouble. It felt shameful to the memory of his best and oldest friend. He had to focus. He had to think of a plan.

There were a lot of things he had to think of. He hadn’t expected the Dragon Queen to appear in his life ever again. Yet here she was. She had reared her terrible head once more. It would be foolish and impossible to ignore her now, and what her appearance meant for everyone.

He took a deep breath and let it go with a heavy sigh. There was a lot of explaining to do on his part.

“This meeting is adjourned,” John was saying loudly to the crowd. “Go back to your work and carry on as best you can. There is little else to be done now, I’m afraid.”

“Those of you who are my friends, please come with me,” Rowan added, just as loudly. “As John said, there is indeed much more to discuss.”

The crowd uneasily began to separate, as the people dispersed and cautiously went on their way. Only a few people remained, most of them having been nearby in the first place. They were all the usual people, faces he had known all his life, presences and personalities he knew he could rely on. Jiller. Shaaran. Bronden. Timon. Violet.

Not for the first time, he sorely wished that Lann was still with them. Dealing with this mess would have been difficult for her to do gracefully; but her insights and good sense would have been more valuable than gold.

We were always very different, and rarely saw eye to eye, he thought sadly. Yet, in some ways, I have become very much like her. I’ve become a leader; and sometimes, a leader has to be cold, even ruthless. She would have been proud to see me today. I would give almost anything to have her support now…

Soon, they were the only people left in the square. If the trading party had been back, the gathering would have been larger. It would have also been in even deeper mourning.

“Follow me to my house,” he said to them. “I have to tell you some things.”


End file.
